Raistlin and Alira
by Tess Oakley
Summary: The long awaited Chapter 23 is finally here. Please READ AND REVIEW...I hope my absence has not ruined interest in this tale...for things are starting to get even better...
1. Chapter 1: A Beginning

I can't tell you how much I don't want to put a disclaimer, but I really don't want to risk being sued or flamed for not putting one: I DON'T OWN RAISTLIN, or any other "Dragonlance" related material! Maybe in my dreams Raistlin is mine, but according to the legal system, he belongs to M. Weis. HOWEVER, Alira is mine, and everything about this story that is obviously not of Dragonlance is obviously of MY creation. Therefore, if you want to use any of it, you must ask me first! Yay!  
Please, have fun reading this, and Review it for me, it would mean a lot to me! If this is successful, I may go as far as to turn it into a mini- book type thing. Thank you! Bye! 1:  
It was a cold morning. The sun rose to greet glistening dewdrops that had gathered on all manner of greenery. Alira rose from her position. She squirmed around in a vain effort to relieve her back of its muscular pain. Sleeping on the ground was less comfortable than she thought.  
She sighed, reflecting on the events that had sped her to such a strange mission. It took just one day to get her hooked into this quest.  
Alira turned, her back feeling a little less tense, and gazed down at the blanket next to her. The mage, Raistlin Majere, slumbered peacefully next to her. Occasionally, he twitched, telltale signs of dreams.  
A red robe for but one year, Alira had taken the test when she was twenty-four. Now, at the youthful age of twenty-five, she was already waist- deep in trouble. Raistlin was famous. Every mage in Krynn whispered his name with a fearful reverence. He was the youngest mage to take the Test, and according to rumor, more powerful than any mage ever to walk the surface of the world. Yet, sleeping there, he was so peaceful, so quiet. He looked handsome, surprisingly, with his features relaxed so, and his pre- maturely white hair falling perfectly around his shoulders.  
Raistlin didn't have his brother's strong, powerful figure, but he was very handsome in his own way. At least, while he slept. When he was awake, he was bitingly cynical. Rude, arrogant, and conceited.which is why Alira was the one who had been assigned to this task.  
Her job? Alira was to escort Raistlin to the Elven land of Qualinesti, where she would meet the famous Tanis Half-Elven. The three of them would then travel on to the Tower where the Head of the Order presided. Alira didn't know why Raistlin needed an escort, but she did not ask questions. She counted herself lucky to have the privilege of meeting a mage of such power. She was surprised, even after hearing countless tales of the ravages done to his youthful body, when she first met him. She really hadn't expected him to be so truly frail.  
But after speaking to him for perhaps ten minutes last night, she understood that his power was true power. It was the power within, the urge to learn, the burning fire that consumed him. He did not seem to care about his appearance. Rather, he used it to benefit himself. The right glance in the right direction with his strange, hourglass eyes was enough to intimidate even his own brother! Alira had met his brother, momentarily, when she had gone to get Raistlin. She wished she had more time to speak to the big man, but she did have a mission to accomplish, and she was not about to make herself look like a foolish child in search of stories.  
She walked over to a small pool of water that had formed near a river she had found last night. Alira assumed that Raistlin would sleep for a few more minutes, and so allowed herself a bit of time to herself. She just wanted a drink of water, nothing more. She knelt by the side of the pool, cupping hands in the water and lifting them to her mouth. Quietly, she sucked the water through pursed lips. Looking down, she saw herself reflected in the waters. Tanis was not the only Half-Elf in the world.  
Alira didn't really know how much Elven blood she had. As far as she could tell, it was only one-sixteenth. She didn't have Elven ears; all she had were the eyes. Her eyes were large, and almond-shaped, green, with foresty-brown notes. She had long, brown hair that sparkled as though streaked with golden silk thread when the sun hit it right. Her hair was perfectly straight, and she loved the fact that it never stayed mussed for long.  
"Enough of your ridiculous vanity!" Alira scolded herself, muttering aloud. She turned back to the little camp where Raistlin still slept.  
Quietly as she could, Alira drew from her pack a fresh change of robes. Unlike most mages, she wore clothes under her robes. Alira knew it was a bit of a vanity, but she was modest. She pulled out a change of under- clothing, breeches, and a plain tunic to wear underneath. Padding away to a large tree, she positioned herself in a way she hoped would give her privacy.  
As quickly as she could manage, she undressed, donning the fresh clothes as soon as the dirty ones hit the ground. She felt refreshed in new garments, and carried the pile of used clothing back to her pack, where she shoved it unceremoniously inside. Muttering to herself about what her mother would say about such un-lady-like behavior, she turned to see how Raistlin was faring.  
It was about time he woke up, so she went ahead and sparked a quick fire with a word of magic. Not the best idea, since magic wasn't meant to be used so frivolously. But she loved the thrill of it.the way it coursed through her veins! It was unspeakable, how totally amazing it was to wield magic! The build up of it, as you caress it and finally release it for whatever purpose you've had in mind. She loved using magic, despite the temporary feeling of weariness that accompanied it. But the small strain of a simple fire-spell was nothing.  
Carefully, she set up a pot of water to boiling. Alira knew of Raistlin's dependence on that odious tea of his. Unfortunately, sweeteners dulled the effects of the tea too much for it to be worth it.  
Alira slowly grew tired of waiting for Raistlin to wake. She padded over to where he lie, and gently knelt beside him. She reached out, placing a hand cautiously on his shoulder. Caramon had told her that Raistlin was a light sleeper, but so far she saw no signs of wakefulness in the young mage.  
She put her mouth near his ear, gently shaking him with her hand. "Raistlin.wake!"  
Alira was very gentle and quiet, so that when he did wake, he was not startled. His strange hourglass pupils adjusted to the light. He pulled away from her, reflexively. Alira expected such a reaction, and so she just rose from her place and retreated to where the tea was starting to boil. She watched him carefully, every motion of his as he slowly brought himself up.  
"My.tea." he croaked, his throat obviously parched. Luckily for him, the water had already begun to boil, and Alira was pouring a small cup full of it. She walked over and handed it to him, watching him fumble at his pouch with slender, nimble fingers. Extracting a pinch of leaves, he flicked them in the cup, swirling it around to hasten the steeping process. Alira watched in silence as he drank, spitting out the leaves.  
"We need to leave. Assuming you don't want to break your fast?" Alira spoke passively, still not completely sure of what to make of the mage before her. She was right in her assumption, as she thought she would be.  
They packed their little campsite away and made their way for the separate area they had hidden their horses. Walking together, Alira found herself admiring him.physically.  
"Are you afraid of death?" she asked, not realizing what she had said until she had said it.  
"No. I see it everywhere I go," he responded, his mellow voice sounding out in the woods. They soon came upon their horses. Raistlin rode a pretty gray stallion, and Alira chose a brilliant chestnut mare.  
"What do you fear?"  
Alira was surprised at her own behavior. Raistlin must think she is a fool. Perhaps this mage was not the best acquaintance for her.  
He didn't answer, to Alira's relief. She didn't really want to know what he feared; it was a silly question. She berated herself for her foolishness, her childishness.  
"What do you fear?" he asked her, suddenly. Her heart skipped a beat. She realized what was wrong with her, and nearly cried out in shock.  
Instead, she answered him truthfully. "I don't know."  
"Then why ask me?" his voice was soft and smooth as velvet, hidden meanings could be under every word.yet Alira loved it. This is what shocked her. Now, she knew what she was afraid of, but she dared not tell him now.  
"I'm.not sure. I suppose I was making an attempt at conversation." Alira thought erratically, praying that this response wouldn't sound like a lie.  
Raistlin turned her way, raised an eyebrow, and turned back to the road.  
She realized it too late.  
I think I might, well, like him. Too much, she thought to herself. Foolish, foolish! How on Krynn could she be falling in love - no! Start liking him! - when she barely knew him? All she knew of him was the basics from a brief conversation just last night.that's all! She was being paranoid. Alira forced herself to silence.  
She focused on the road, wondered about the time it would take to get there. Alira didn't notice when Raistlin had an unusually violent coughing attack until he nearly fell off of his horse.  
"Dammen du!" Alira cursed herself, leaping off of the back of her horse in a particularly skillful movement to grab his horse. She didn't want the gray to spook when Raistlin was coughing, he could fall off and break his neck! Alira helped him off his horse, surprised when he pushed her away and sat by himself. Raistlin seemed to be dying, or at least hacking a lung up. Worriedly, she patted him roughly on the back to help him. Quickly, she spoke the arcane language of magic to call up a fire. She worked as fast as she could to brew his tea for him, holding it up to his shaking lips and watching as he gulped it down greedily. She watched, concern etching her fine features, as his fit slowly subsided. He was weak from the exertions, she could tell, and his radiantly golden skin seemed to lose some of its luster. Carefully, she helped him into the forest, to conceal him from the view of others, and settled him down. Luckily, the horses followed, for whatever reason, and Alira was able to retrieve a few blankets from their packs. She made sure he was comfortable before brewing more tea. Concerned for him, she watched carefully to guard against any sudden signs of illness. Raistlin seemed to be wheezing, startled again, Alira hurried over to him. Kneeling, she took his face in her hands and felt for a fever. "Thank.you." He struggled to get the words out. Alira nearly fell over in surprise. Raistlin was not known to thank anybody for anything. Such a display of humanity seemed so uncharacteristic for him. Yet, she was pleased with his response. Apparently, he didn't mind her presence much. He allowed her to lean against the tree with him, and eventually, they both fell asleep, Alira's head on his shoulder, and their arms subconsciously moving to protectively grip each other.  
  
Alira was surprised when she awoke, because Raistlin was actually holding her! It sent a thrill through her blood, though she wasn't sure why. She didn't want to disturb him, but it was nearing night, and she knew there was no way they could travel beyond their point. She cursed. That set them back a full day, yet there was no way to stop it. It wasn't his fault his health was fragile. Slowly, she calmed herself, watching the vulnerable young mage sleep. Her thoughts wandered. His staff, the famed Staff of Magius, was near him, as usual. She hadn't noticed it as much before, since he didn't flaunt his prize in front of her. Around non- magi, he was proud of his staff, but he guarded its presence jealously in front of other mages, obviously suspicious of thieves. Now that he wasn't cradling her in his arms, he adjusted himself so his staff took her place. What is wrong with me? We don't know each other! Alira cried to herself. She didn't like him, not that way! It was impossible! As she pointed out to herself multiple times, she didn't know him! Ah, dear, but weren't you told once that true love doesn't need to be fully explained? A sinister voice inside taunted her.  
It was true.during her Test. She rarely thought about that crucial moment in her life, preferring to ignore it. She remembered well the old crone who she saved. The woman told her several things, all of which Alira didn't know what to make of. She remembered most clearly the first thing, though.  
"You, my dear, will find your true love earlier than most. Yet, if you refuse it for too long, it will be lost to you forever. Be wise, my dear, and trust your instincts, for you will ruin your life as well as his!" the old woman had cackled, and Alira remembered the furrowing of her brows as she suppressed a scoff.  
What if this was it? What if Raistlin was, of all the people, her "true love"? If she denied it, she could destroy both of their lives.assuming its true. But if he isn't.what could go wrong?  
"Is it worth the risk?" Alira murmured to herself.  
  
TO BE CONTINUED.SHOULD YOU CHOOSE FOR IT TO! 


	2. Chapter 2: A Few Discoveries

2:  
  
Raistlin wasn't truly sleeping. He had awoken once she lifted her head from him, but feigned sleep without knowing his own motives. One of his eyes opened, just enough to get a look at her.  
Cursing the Test that robbed him of normal eyesight, he watched her deteriorate; yet his glance gave him the information he wanted. She was very pretty. He'd go as far to say she was beautiful. Inside, he felt his mouth twisting into a cynical half-grin, careful not to give any outward signs of wakefulness. His mind was overrun with thoughts.  
Raistlin still didn't understand this young woman. They were near the same age, and therefore he suspected that she would be enamored with his twin brother the way all the other girls he had ever met were. She wasn't as impressed by Caramon as a certain other girl was. A painful memory lanced through his mind, but he stifled it. Still, the strawberry-red curls bounced in his mind. Hatred burst through his veins as he remembered the girl who broke his heart. Raistlin banished her from his mind with an inward sneer.  
Alira, the girl, intrigued him. He was annoyed with himself for finding her desirable, and yet he wanted to learn more of her. Curiosity, however, is not always a good thing.  
He closed his eye, and opened it again, for a fresh view of her. It pained him, to watch her slowly melt away. His cursed eyesight forced him to watch everything around him age to death, and Alira's prolonged death marked her as having Elven blood. Raistlin stored this little bit of information in his mind, as with everything else.  
Finally, he decided to get up.  
  
Alira was startled when she heard Raistlin shuffling around in the leaves. He rose, the leaves and other matter from the forest ground simply falling away from his frail form. He looked much better, but she could tell he was still weary.  
"Are you alright?" she asked, rising from her pack. She had been rooting through to see if she had brought any of her own tea. Alira didn't relish the idea of tasting Raistlin's concoction.  
"As 'alright' as I'll ever be." Raistlin's voice was hoarse, and Alira frowned. She had never liked to see anything in pain, especially another human. She felt like reaching out for him, but she knew he would just pull away. She had been told that he hated to be touched. A wry smile touched her lips as she thought of what she had been told in preparation for dealing with the cynical mage, but she managed to wipe it off of her face before he noticed.  
He moved quietly, walking to his horse to relieve it of its burdens. There was a certain delicacy, almost gentleness, to his actions that she was not prepared for. In all honestly, she had been frightened of him before she had met him.  
The things she was told couldn't be true. Raistlin didn't seem as.evil.as she had thought he would be. He wasn't as arrogant, rude, conceited, or malicious as Par-Salian had warned. Raistlin didn't snap at her, he didn't hiss or threaten. True, he didn't talk much. His answers were short, and he didn't appear to like conversation.but even the nicest people had their moments of introversion.  
Quickly, she berated herself for again allowing her thoughts to stray. She found a satchel of food at her horse's side, and began to prepare an evening meal for herself. Just because Raistlin didn't each much didn't mean she was going to starve herself. She was quiet, and efficient in her work, and soon she sat by a tree with a fire licking in front of her. The snapping and crackling of the fire was interesting, the way the flames undulated.seemed to almost dance. She ate thoughtfully, wondering about when they would arrive in Qualinesti. She was fairly certain that what little Elven blood she had was from Qualinesti. Raistlin, silent as usual, sat by her side, watching the flames, and occasionally glancing at her. Alira felt strangely vulnerable while he watched her eat.  
She had banished all thoughts of attraction earlier, and refused to allow herself to imagine such a ridiculous connection between herself and someone she didn't know. Alira knew that she was being foolish, and decided firmly to guard herself against such odd thoughts. That prophesy.it was nothing. Nothing but something to make her Test more eerie than it already was.  
"We were asleep for too long." Raistlin said randomly. Alira almost jumped when he spoke. She hadn't expected it.  
"Yes. I doubt I'll be able to fall asleep at all tonight." Alira remarked as casually and coolly as she could. It was true, she felt extremely alert, and the sky was already fading into darkness. It wouldn't be long until the stars glittered in the sky, accompanied by the three moons.  
The moons! Those gods and goddess of magic! The first, and largest, was silver Solinari, the god of "white" magic. The second, crimson Lunitari, the goddess of neutral magic, and Alira and Raistlin's own goddess. The third, tiny Nuitari, could only be seen by those who practice "dark" magic, and therefore was invisible to Alira's eyes. But she knew it existed, as all mages knew.  
"Lunitari!" Raistlin said, and Alira could hear a strange familiarity in his voice.  
"Yes, dear Lunitari." Alira felt she had to say something, and so she spoke flatly.  
"I had a.mentor.once. He claimed to be Lunitari's drinking partner some nights. Even went so far as to call her 'dear Luni', and I remember berating him for speaking so familiarly of her," he reminisced. The crickets began to chirp, emphasizing the silence.  
"What happened?" Alira felt compelled to ask.  
"He reminded me of my own experience with the gods and goddess."  
The way he spoke was casual, but there was something hiding behind the words that sparked Alira's own curiosity.  
"Experience?" Alira questioned, ready to be snapped at.  
"When I was much younger, and I was to take a simple little test to see if I had any magical ability, all three of them came to me. They asked me; in short, if I were serious about the commitment I would have to make to magic. Of course, I answered that I was. I passed the test. We had to write something on a piece of parchment and if we had the gift, it would burn itself into the parchment. My piece burned and shriveled up with a fire that my teacher claimed no one had ever seen before."  
Alira said nothing. She knew what "simple test" he spoke of, having taken it herself. Raistlin didn't seem particularly interested in the fact that she hadn't spoken.  
"How are you doing?" Alira asked suddenly, noticing that he hadn't even cleared his throat since his attack. He looked at her quizzically, his golden skin glittering, and his molten-gold eyes burning. The hourglass pupils grew smaller, then bigger.  
"Why do you care?"  
Raistlin's question was voiced with more of a curious tone than a rude one. Alira was startled when she heard the wording. At first, she thought he was being the cynical, selfish person he was supposed to be.but when she realized that he seemed actually startled by her concern, she was surprised.  
"Should I not care?"  
Alira felt like hitting herself. She hated it when she answered questions with questions, but at the same time she felt pleased that she was giving Raistlin a taste of his own medicine. It was a simple question, and he didn't have to be so.different.about it.  
He was silent.  
Alira felt a stab of regret. She actually wanted to converse with him, though it didn't surprise her. Alira was the kind of person who liked to talk, though she knew full well when to be silent. Or so she liked to think.  
"I'm more curious as to why you seem to actually care." Raistlin whispered. He didn't look at her as he spoke.  
"Maybe no one seems to care about you because you don't let them." Alira replied gently, suddenly falling back on her natural motherly instincts. He turned to look at her.  
"In my experience, few people tried."  
Now, he finally showed the poor qualities he was famous for. Finally, he spoke bitterly, with hatred and arrogance behind the words.  
"How do you know? You could have pushed them away when they tried," she suggested.  
"I pushed no one away."  
He was defensive. Alira knew this for a sign that she was getting through to him.  
"Yes you do. You push your brother away. He truly loves you, and if it weren't for the strength of his love, he would give up, too. Not everybody is willing to risk their neck for someone in order to gain approval, Raistlin Majere." Alira couldn't help but sound hard. She, however, didn't hear the steel beneath her words.  
"Of course! My dear, dear brother." He snarled. Alira knew she made a mistake when she saw his reaction, and suddenly felt the fool for bringing his brother into the conversation.  
"Raistlin, I was trying to say." she tried to explain herself.  
"I know what you meant, and it wasn't you dragging Caramon in that is.upsetting.me." Raistlin coughed, and from his crimson red robes he drew a square of white cloth. Quietly, he coughed into it, then folded it nimbly with slender fingers and tucked it back inside.  
"Maybe, if you give someone a chance, you could have a friend."  
"Why would I want one." He retorted quickly.  
"Why not? Would it hurt to maybe know one person you can trust?"  
"How can you put your trust in someone?"  
Alira sighed loudly, and looked up at the sky. It was blue-velvet, and speckled generously with glittering stars. The moons, in their various waxing and waning stages, shepherded the twinkling lights around them. She knew they wouldn't sleep for at least a few more hours, and so decided that she would try a little experiment. She rose from her position, leaving her cleaned plate on the ground with her utensils.  
"I want to show you something." She said, motioning for him to rise and join her. Hesitantly, he complied.  
"Stand in front of me, so that your back faces me. No, no, you are too far, get closer.yes. Now, you are going to count to three, and on 'three' you will tip yourself backward. Don't worry, I will catch you." Alira gave the simple instructions, not wanting to give away too much.  
She waited as Raistlin oriented himself.  
"One." his voice rang out, a bit too softly.  
"Two."  
"Three."  
He slowly fell backwards, and at the last minute, threw his foot back to catch himself. Alira frowned. She understood what it meant, but she wasn't at all surprised. Nevertheless, she had caught him.or would have, had he trusted her enough to continue falling.  
"What was the point?" he demanded of her.  
"One minute, please. We are going to switch roles. I expect you to try and catch me." Alira decided to try it from another point of view. She positioned herself in front of him.  
"One." she began counting firmly.  
"Two."  
"Three!"  
Falling backwards was extremely unpleasant, especially in the night. Despite the flames from their fire, and the light of the stars and moons, it was still dark enough to be intimidating. She kept falling, and he caught her. She didn't try to break her fall, though it might have been a good idea. He was not ready for her unexpected weight to fall into his arms, and before she could leap back up, they both collapsed in a heap.  
"Again.what was the point of that?" Raistlin said sourly, detangling himself while trying to hold his robes down. Apparently, he was one of the mages who chose not to wear much beneath his mage's robes.  
"Did you see how I trusted you to catch me? And how you didn't trust me to catch you? I thought you would have caught on earlier." She said, not exactly appreciating his attitude. She was facing him now, and she watched as enlightenment crept onto his face. She could have sworn she saw the shadow of a smile crossing his eyes. But it could have been the flames. 


	3. Chapter 3: The First Step to Building Fr...

Note: I'm really starting to enjoy writing fanfic. Previously, I wrote only my own material, being as creative as I could to avoid using other material from other authors. But this is fun, and I'm glad people seem to like it! I hope you keep enjoying, and my writing doesn't start to get bad! Again, please review! For my pride's sake! All kinds of comments are enjoyed! Oh, and PLEASE don't steal Alira.I'm starting to get attached to her. If you have questions/comments that you don't want to put in a REVIEW.you can email me. 3:  
Alira felt to awkward in Raistlin's presence after the experiment. She wasn't tired, but she still stayed still as she lay on her blanket on the ground. She kept her eyes closed, not truly feigning sleep, but not showing any signs of being alert.  
Raistlin, however, didn't feel any need to fake sleep. He stayed up, next to the fire, reading and commending spells to his memory. At the same time, thoughts about Alira's so-called "experiment" kept creeping into his mind. It was interesting.that test actually seemed valid. Raistlin thought about this little theory, then shook the thought out of his head and concentrated on his spellbook instead.  
A strange thing happened to Raistlin at that time. For the first time in his life, he actually didn't feel like studying. He felt more like doing something else, but he had no idea what he could want more than to study. Magic was his passion, so he swore to the three gods of magic. It surprised him, especially since he had no idea where such an idea had come into his head.an idea to do something else.  
He closed his book, trying to figure out what he wanted. Aggravated, he put a hand to his head. Raistlin was used to being able to solve everything with a few moments of thought, and he gave up with a cry of frustration when he couldn't find an answer.  
Alira gave a start when she heard him. "What is it? Is there someone there?"  
"No, its nothing!" he snapped. Alira, at least, finally understood why he hadn't seemed as bad as he was supposed to be.she simply hadn't known him long enough.  
"Right, I'm sure." Alira didn't try to disguise the sarcasm in her voice.  
"Silence!" he cried, throwing a stick violently into the fire and gripping his staff tighter.  
"Calm down. If you get excited, you'll probably start coughing again." She scolded. When he began coughing, she felt a short stab of triumph, followed by shame for feeling so at his expense.  
She put water to boil when he started coughing.  
Between bouts of coughing, he managed a sentence, "Not.going.to.ask me.how I'm feeling now.are you?"  
She smiled. It was the closest thing to a joke he had said she since met him, though admittedly she hadn't know him long. Yet still, he didn't have a reputation for jokes, so she counted it a victory.  
"I gave up on that a while ago." She responded, punctuating her sentence with a short laugh. She poured the water and added the tealeaves for him, handing it to him while he coughed. He sipped, and then emitted a strange sound. It seemed an unpracticed noise, and when Alira realized what it was, she nearly fell over. He was laughing! It wasn't unpleasant, but it was certainly odd.  
He coughed again. "I don't.laugh often."  
"So I heard." She replied. The silence that followed wasn't so awkward, this time. Alira poured some warm water for herself, adding normal tealeaves. They both sipped, him out of obligation, her out of propriety.  
"It seems as though you know more of me than I of you." Raistlin said. He surprised Alira yet again this afternoon. He was actually making an attempt at conversation. She decided the best course of action would be to go along with it, perhaps encourage it.  
"Well, what do you want to know?" she asked him warmly.  
"I don't know."  
Raistlin was not just surprising Alira, he was surprising himself. For once in his life, he was making an effort to get to know someone. But he was being honest when he told her he didn't know what he wanted to know about her. He didn't have much practice in prolonged conversation, but he supposed it wouldn't hurt to at least try it.  
"My father was a carpenter, and my mother wove cloth in her spare time for money. I was fairly little when two traveling mages came to our town, one was a red robe and one wore white. I remember a few of the townspeople weren't happy about them being there, but I thought it was interesting, and wonderful. As with most inns and taverns, they were the local place for everyone to spend their spare time with the other people of the town. One evening when I had spare time, I went over to the inn in an attempt to see if there was any news about the strangers. "I was absolutely tickled when I went there and saw them near the fire, talking to each other. I don't remember what they were saying, but I was interested. Apparently, I had slowly inched closer in my attempts to hear them, and I eventually ended up sitting next to them. I barely remember what happened, but they noticed me and started talking to me. The must have guessed that I had a gift for magic, because they asked to meet my parents. I was still a young child, so I saw nothing wrong with bringing perfect strangers to my house. Fortunately for me, they didn't have sinister intentions. I remember more clearly that after they visited I received a lengthy lecture about being careful around strangers. "But, anyway, my parents sent me away while they spoke to the mages, and I'm sure they tried to come with a few excuses to not send me to the nearest tower for teaching, but eventually the mages won them over somehow. I never really knew the details, but I know that a few days after the mages met my parents, my father hitched up our old mare and took me to the tower." Alira reminisced, not really paying attention to what she spoke. Instead, she did more thinking than talking. It was a fond memory, for her. "Your parents didn't want you to study magic?" he asked quietly. "No, they were more frightened at the prospect of me being gone for so long while I was young. After a while, they began to appreciate it, and when I was older they were very supportive." Raistlin thought it was interesting that her parents were supportive. His childhood had been strange, compared to what was considered normal. Then again, when were mages ever considered normal? "You were lucky." He said truthfully. "You're parents weren't supportive?" she said. It stunned her, since he had such talent! Anyone could tell that he was gifted for a mage, and yet his parents didn't support him? His cynical laugh confirmed her suspicions. "My father was never around. My mother was a sort of Seeress, but she was too different for anyone to stomach her for two long. Both died when I was rather young. They didn't really want me to go, they couldn't afford it. But my half-sister, Kitiara, she wanted me to be a mage so she could leave. She didn't want to leave my brother and me defenseless. Caramon had his sword, but I didn't have physical strength to save myself. I was lucky to have a gift for magic, or I would have to rely on Caramon the rest of my life. Once I was firmly into the arcane art, my sister left. Caramon took me to the tower, and brought me back. My mother stayed in the house, as usual. My father, I barely noticed." He said, his voice cold and factual. His eyes as he looked into the flames were mirrors, allowing no emotion to seep through at all. Alira was silent. She didn't know what to say after hearing him. "I'm.sorry. That wasn't the most tactful thing to say." An apology! Raistlin was turning human! "No, no. It's okay. I told you my end, you told me yours. We're even." She managed a smile, if a nervous one. Unfortunately, Raistlin was rather good at reading expressions, and her reaction kind of depressed him. It hit him. It was her! He wanted to talk to her! That's why he didn't want to study! At the same time he made the realization, he rebuked himself. Raistlin was disgusted with himself. You decided years ago after that girl made a fool out of you never to fall into such weaknesses! NEVER! he nearly shouted at himself aloud, he was so furious. He knew that, psychologically, he was injured from his first encounter with attraction. It was years ago, and he developed a crush on a young, beautiful town girl. In short, she broke his heart. She was nice to him, flirtatious. Then, the one night he gets himself ready to approach her, to maybe ask to court her, he comes upon her and his brother.busy. The trauma of that still affected him, and he knew it, and he hated himself for letting such weaknesses conquer him. He hated himself for liking that girl-whose-name-he-never-again-spoke, hated himself for letting her memory taint his life, and hated himself for even caring in the first place! "Raistlin!" Alira cried, noticing that his grip on the cup he held was tightening enough to nearly break it. He snapped from his fevered sulk, looking at her and attempting a smile. She's nice. She's pretty. She isn't enamored with your brother. You like her, admit it! You could finally have a friend. She would be someone that would be your friend, yours to talk to. A friend. Friend. So don't ruin it by acting like a.he was thinking, when she interrupted. "Raistlin, are you okay?" she blurted. She laughed then. "Sorry, I asked you that again." "No! No. It's fine.I'm fine." He said, cursing himself for his foolishness. Who ever made friends by acting like a lovesick dolt. No, he wasn't interested in her quite that way. He liked her. Genuinely. He'd never had a friend before; his nickname had always been "Sly", after all, and it wasn't a compliment. Then again, in a way he did have friends. But they didn't trust him, nor did he trust them.so are they really friends? Alira trusted him, he knew for certain. But he didn't trust her. He knew now what he could do. The first step to building a friendship: building trust. 


	4. Chapter 4: Rain Check

Note: Yay! I can write a chapter in about ten minutes~ What fun! Meaning.if you want me to continue, please review so I know I'm doing something right! All comments are appreciated! ESPECIALLY the good ones.  
Again: ALIRA IS MINE! All mine! Take that, Margie Weis!  
Unfortunately: Raistlin is not mine, neither is any of the Dragonlance material I'm using.but at least I still have my dreams! Ahhh, dreams! 4:  
Alira woke early in the morning, to find that Raistlin had already been awake. It seemed as though he had been awake for quite a while, judging by the state of their little camp. He had already made a small breakfast, and he had two separate pots of tea warm by the fire. It was a nice surprise.  
"Good morning." Alira said, getting up. She wore her traveling clothes when she slept. Alira was modest, and didn't like the idea of wearing just her robes to bed as most mages - and Raistlin - do. She had folded her robes neatly the previous night, and left them next to her as she slept. Now that she was awake, she adjusted her clothes. She tended to toss and turn in her sleep, and her clothes showed signs of being slightly rumpled. But it was easily remedied with a few pulls in the right direction.  
She finally donned her robes and secured them with the many hidden clasps and ties that all robes come with.  
A mage's robes are an interesting thing. They come in the three colors that show their loyalty to their god or goddess, and every mage gets theirs upon completion of their Test. Of course, mages who don't pass, or choose not to test, get brown robes.  
The robes are always made carefully, with special consideration for who would be wearing them. Since most mages don't like wearing clothing under their robes, the robes are all made with a simple idea in mind: keep them on, at all times, unless they are meant to be taken off. Basically, the makers have developed a clever system of ties and clasps that make it easy for them to be taken off by the wearer, but nearly impossible for someone else. Not even the mages who wore them really understood the way it worked, they were just happy with the one-two-three - one clasp, two buttons, and three ties - that made it simple for them.  
Raistlin was sitting, with a plate of bread and plain cheese before him, and his usual drink in a cup in his hand. He nodded his head at her, recognizing her greeting.  
Alira helped herself to the meal, simple, yet very good. She wasn't entirely sure what it was, but it was some type of fried bread and something else. All she could tell from it was that it tasted good.  
"Where'd you learn to cook?" she asked between mouthfuls.  
"My brother and I lived on our own for quite a while. One of us had to learn, and it turned out that I was the better at it. His scrambled eggs were famous for their crunchy texture." He replied quietly, huddled in his robes.  
"You are really good. I never was much of a cook, and it always bothered my mother that I could tell her the properties of any herb she put in our food, and yet I could never figure out which herb would best accentuate which food. I remember every night I used to identify all of the cooking herbs by taste, and I always knew what she used. But, again, I was never good at making anything but plainer meals." Alira commented, eating daintily all the while.  
"Perhaps, then, you will make one of your 'plainer meals' tonight? I don't want to exhaust all of my herb supplies, and the chances we'll find anything good on the way to Qualinesti are slim." He suggested. She nodded her head, a smile touching her lips. He was making an attempt at cordiality, and she had to admit it was heartwarming.  
Within minutes, they were back on their horses, and on their away to the land of the Elves. Alira reminisced about her bloodlines.  
Apparently, her Elven family stretched back from her mother's side. As in most stories, the beauty of an Elf had enamored one of her relatives. Though in this case, it actually blossomed to love. They got to know each other, and loved each other as much for personalities as physical appearance. As far as Alira knew, the Elf had been a young man, and her relative a young woman at the time.  
His name, she recalled, was Therinilion, though everyone called him Therin. Her relative was Irint. It had become a family tradition to, every once in a while, give a longer, more Elven name to a child. Alira was one of those children. Her full name was Aliralintharincalion. It was quite a mouthful, obviously, and so she ended up having her named shortened for human usage. She was known as Alira Lintharin Calion, three names, and of the three, Alira was the one everyone used. As she grew, she rarely even mentioned that her name was longer.  
She bit her lip as she thought. She really didn't know much about her Elven side. She didn't even know how far back it stretched. She knew for certain, though, that she didn't have a lot of Elven blood because she lacked the ears! The ears were the one feature that most with even a drop of Elven blood had them. Or at least a tiny hint of a point to their ears. But Alira didn't even have that! She could fully have passed for human, but for her almond-eyes. Even then, her eyes weren't set at that ever-so-slight slant that gave an even more outlandish look to them. Alira didn't have much trouble with her "Elven-ness" being spotted.  
"Alira?" Raistlin asked. She had drifted off, and a glazed look had taken over her face. He was worried for a moment; she wasn't the kind of person to just drift off and leave her body behind.  
"Hmm?" she said, snapping back to reality.  
"What is it? Is something wrong?"  
Raistlin was actually more interested in whether or not there might be any thieves or robbers than whether it was her own personal troubles. He wasn't thinking, though, it should have been obvious she didn't think there were any thieves. If she did, she probably would have taken steps to avoid them, not drifted off into her thoughts. He kicked himself mentally for his mistake.  
"No. I was just thinking. Did you know that I have Elven blood?" she asked, curiosity prevailing. She wondered if he knew s much about her as she knew of him.  
"Yes. They told me, but they gave no details."  
He didn't have to say who "they" were, since it was most likely the same people who told her of him.  
"Well, it was my mother's side, that's all I know. As a result, they decided to give 'Elven' names to the occasional child born in our family. I was one of them." She said, not exactly sure why.  
"Alira? It hasn't an Elven ring, but not much more." He said.  
"Try Aliralintharincalion."  
"Ah, much better." He replied, a humorous ring to his voice. "Are you going to insist that I call you by that? I'm afraid I might have another coughing fit if I try."  
She laughed openly. "No, of course not, Raistlin."  
"My brother calls me 'Raist' for short, that's as short as my name ever gets. At the longest, it's simply Raistlin Majere." He replied, hoping it would make her laugh again. She had a strangely soothing and fun laugh. Raistlin was strangely happy when she chuckled in reply.  
They rode on in silence when Raistlin noticed, for once, that the sun seemed dim. He looked up and was surprised to see that, following them quickly, dark, ominous clouds floated menacingly overhead. It was obvious from the scent of the air, and the electricity that permeated it, that rain was coming. Violent, thunderstorm rain. He was surprised he didn't notice it before; it was so obvious.  
"Alira. We need to find shelter."  
"We'll just dart into the forest then, Raistlin." She said, obviously caught up in her thoughts.  
"It's a thunderstorm, we need a cave or something. A shelter. Now." He replied, reaching out and touching her shoulder to snap her from her dreams. It was one of the first times he had instigated contact with another human being, but he didn't particularly notice. She swiveled in her saddle to get a look at the clouds. She cursed, even that foul word sounding pleasant, yet rather more evil coming from her lips.  
"There should be somewhere near by." She said, now consumed by the urge to find a cave. She knew the area like the back of her hand, and she was certain there was a small one near. She just wasn't sure how close. Alira listened carefully for the sounds of the forest, using her senses to get her bearings.  
"Here!" she cried, just as a rolling bout of thunder shook the ground. The horses were getting nervous, prancing to the sides and shaking their heads and manes.  
She darted into the forest on horseback; carefully maneuvering her horse towards the wider gaps between trees to avoid scrapes and bruises. Raistlin followed on her tail, ducking his head down and grabbing hold for dear life. He wasn't much of a horse person, but he put up with it for speed's sake.  
Before long, they arrived at a river.  
"Just what we need. More water." Raistlin commented dryly, his less- social nature coming through with stress. He coughed, disguising it so Alira wouldn't be alarmed. He thanked Lunitari for his red robes, which disguised blood quite well.  
She shot him a dirty look, following the river a few yards before the rains started. They were completely drenched within seconds by the blinding, pelting, fat droplets. It was almost a painful experience, and Raistlin's cough wasn't getting worse. Fortunately, Alira couldn't hear his hacking for the high winds and shrieking rain. Finally, after Raistlin was certain he would never be warm or dry again, Alira found the place she was searching for, and then moved her horse behind Raistlin's to make sure he would get in first.  
Alira knew there wouldn't be any animals in the cave. It was protected, somehow. She wasn't sure how, but she wasn't about to ask. It was dry inside, but still ice-cold. They dismounted, and she got to work with making a fire.  
"Shirak." Raistlin whispered, and the crystal at the top of his staff flared into brilliant light. Unfortunately, this light didn't provide warmth. But it did help Alira with the fire. Before long, it was roaring into life, despite the conditions outside. Raistlin's staff, with its beautiful dragon's claw gripping the crystal, was truly powerful. She could just feel it, the electrical magical energy, and she had never touched it. She smiled up at Raistlin, who was clutching his staff to keep his huddled form from sliding to the ground. Her smile was wiped off her face when she saw that he was coughing so violently he made no sound. Dry choking, rasping, and she knew he was having a bad fit.  
"Dammen du, Alira, of course! The rain!"  
It was obvious that the damp, cold conditions would ravage him, and with familiar motions she had his tea ready for him. When he could speak again, he thanked her.  
"Dulak." He rasped, his voice still hoarse, and his staff's light blinked out obediently.  
Raistlin looked terrible. His soaked robes clung to his form as he curled up tightly to preserve warmth. It was a vain effort, he should have known. His robes were wet enough to suck all heat from him, but he didn't seem conscious. He just sipped at his tea, shivering. Alira couldn't take it any longer.  
"Those robes aren't helping you. You've got dry off and change into something else.  
The horses, which they had brought inside the large, spacious cave, stood firmly with the packs. Alira took a few moments to care for the horses, not wanting them to catch sick. She searched through her packs first, finding clean clothes and a drying cloth for herself.  
"Raist, may I?" she said, gesturing to his packs. He turned his shaking, chattering face to her and nodded. He liked the way his nickname sounded on her tongue, but was too cold to even move.  
She searched through his packs, devoutly not allowing her attention to stray from finding clean robes for him. However, she couldn't disguise her surprise at one discovery: there were no underclothes whatsoever in the pack. He just had books, robes, parchment and a few other things, packed neatly inside. But she refused to dwell on such thoughts, instead carrying the robe over to him, and fetching an extra drying cloth from her pack for him.  
The look he gave her communicated the words he didn't speak clearly. He didn't feel comfortable undressing, drying, and re-dressing in her presence.  
"If you think I'm about to strip off these rags in front of you, you've probably taken fever! I'm going deeper into the cave to change behind the horses, you can just sit there and do whatever you like while I'm gone." She said with a laugh. It was so funny, that this powerful mage was as modest as she was. Unfortunately for her, there really was no way for her to stay as modest as she wanted to be in this cave. The horses would offer protection, of course, but the light was bright in the cave, glittering with its shadows across the wall. Nevertheless, she trusted Raistlin.  
She stalked off, her own robes dripping and clinging, to dress.  
  
Raistlin didn't want to wait a second more than he had to in order to change. As soon as she turned her back, he began to wriggle free from his constricting robes. Fully nude, he stood before the fire, letting the heat bake his body to dryness. His hair, down to his shoulders and leaking water constantly down his back, couldn't stay wet for long. Eventually, his hair was dry enough that it didn't bother him. He liked basking next to the fire, but didn't want to be caught naked by Alira. He felt guilty for not offering to go in her place, for not letting her nearer the fire.  
Raistlin chanced a glance in her direction, and saw that she was behind the horses, with only her bare back and streaming hair showing above, and her long, graceful legs showing below. He realized immediately that he shouldn't have looked when everything he thought about seemed to correlate to her. He had time to dry by the fire, he noticed, since she seemed pre-occupied with her long hair and drying cloth. He enjoyed the warmth, so he cleared his mind and just let the fire bathe him, resisting the temptation to see what Alira did.  
  
Meanwhile, Alira was drying herself off, finding the stubborn water was aided by her hair. It seemed as though she would never get dry. She wished she had stayed by the fire. A quick glance showed her that Raistlin had not taken his time with getting undressed and warmed. She saw only his upper body, as the horses covered up that much of him. She was relieved. Alira noted that while he didn't have his brother's powerful, muscled physique, he wasn't as frail as he looked at first glance. Lean, he was, with the muscle of someone who did just enough activity to be fit.  
"Stop it!" she whispered to herself. The last thing she wanted to do was to let things turn strange. She quickly donned her underclothes in an effort to start getting warmer. It also helped keep her mind off of Raistlin, near the fire.  
She dressed quickly, finally donning her clean, dry robes, and snuggling into the warmth of them. Alira pushed her way past the horses when she realized Raistlin was probably still not dressed. She backpedaled and hid behind the horses, peeking over to see how he was doing.  
Nope, still not dressed, but he was holding his robes and slipping into them. She didn't watch.  
Finally, when she knew he was done dressing, she peeked out and scurried towards the warmth of the fire. He was sitting on a rock, sipping at his concoction quietly. When she came and sat near, he looked up at her and managed something close to a smile.  
"It's getting late, and I doubt the storm's going to abate until morning. I'm going to sleep. If anything changes, wake me." Alira said awkwardly, not exactly sure why she felt odd.  
"As you will." Raistlin said politely. "But you owe me dinner."  
"Will you take a rain check?" she responded, not realizing it was a pun when she said it. All the same, the two of them laughed as she unrolled a blanket and lay down.  
But she couldn't sleep! She was tired, but she just couldn't. Alira was slowly getting aggravated.  
"Can't sleep?" Raistlin asked suddenly, as though reading her mind.  
"How did you know?" Alira replied.  
"Just thought so." He said smoothly. Alira raised an eyebrow at him.  
"Well, I'd cook, but I was actually planning on something that I can't do in this situation." Her conversational reply was, this time, not lost on him.  
"In that case, maybe we should just.talk." He suggested, not exactly one of his smoothest moments.  
"About what?"  
"Like last time, you told me about how you got into school." He made a wild attempt to get her started, since he wasn't sure of what he wanted.  
"Well. I can sort of remember what my schooling was like. Master Ferian. He was nice, but very distant. I remember thinking he didn't seem very talented at magic, though he had earned his robes."  
Raistlin understood her feelings completely. His own Master, Master Theobald, had been a nitwit. A foolish old man that Raistlin remembered clearly. He had hated him, and was certain that he only got his robes because Par-Salian bribed him with them. If Theobald would teach, he would get his robes.  
"I was the only girl in the class, which made me a bit of an outsider. But the boys were still nice, if distant. In class, I did well. I always did well. I remember when I was first called 'Cat', and when I asked why, the boys replied that I was the teacher's little pet. It would have been funny, if Master Ferian liked me at all. He grudgingly accepted that I was good, but he hated me. Always did, and I never found out why. Hmm." She finished her short tale, leaving Raistlin to wonder what the point of the whole thing was. Then he remembered that he had asked her to talk.  
"Nothing really interesting every happened to me, until I was invited to take the Test. Afterwards, I was given time to recover and I was given all of these instructions and things. They also gave me my gift. Every mage gets something from the Test, as you well know. In my case, I, well, I don't actually know what it is yet. That's part of it. They wouldn't tell me any more, of course. They love their little secrets too much. But basically, this is one of the most exciting things to ever happen to me, to be taking you to Qualinesti. Even then, the only reason they sent me is that I happened to be nearby and I know this place so well."  
"How do you know this area?" Raistlin asked, finding something, finally, to say.  
"Oh, well, I needed a job, eventually, when I left my school. I actually left at seventeen, would you believe it? Anyway, I spent a few years traveling this area, and learning all the roads and such from maps. Par-Salian once joked that I'd probably traveled this area more than a kender would." She laughed, as did Raistlin.  
Raistlin knew kender very well. He had spent much of his life pestered by one named Tasslehoff Burrfoot. Kender were an interesting race. They averaged four feet tall, and wrinkles were a desired facial feature in their society. They are pickpockets by nature, but the strange thing is they don't realize that they steal. In their minds, things "fall" into their pouches (of which they traditionally have man) and they "find" lost items all the time.  
The ensuing conversation wasn't bad at all.  
Raistlin was surprised.  
He began to think he might enjoy having a friend. 


	5. Chapter 5: Coughing Theory & Study Sessi...

I really want to thank all of the supportive people who have given me such wonderful reviews! Because of you (and, I'll admit, I absolutely LOVE writing.and this gives me a really good reason to) I'm going to continue this. I have been thinking about going AU w/ this!  
Again: I know I don't own Dragonlance and all the related stuff.but ALIRA is mine! You cannot use her in any way, shape, or form unless you ask ME! And if I say "no", that means NO.NO.she's MINE! Buahaha! LOL, again, I'm glad you guys love this, because I love it too! Chapter 5:  
They had spent the night chatting away; sleep claiming neither of them as they just talked. Raistlin had never before talked to someone without a specific purpose in mind for the conversation, and this was a new and exciting experience for him.  
Alira, however, was experienced with talking with people for the sake of talking. She laughed, and before long had forgotten that the mage before her was Raistlin Majere. Her mental picture of him morphed completely, it was as though he, himself, had undergone a transformation. And he had.  
"But then, Caramon was running around like a fool shouting for the snipe! When he finally came back, the bag he carried was wriggling madly! And then he opened it, and Tas was inside, and he just stared at it! Everyone laughed until their sides hurt!" Raistlin was telling her about an incident where they sent Caramon on a false snipe hunt. He laughed harder than he ever had before, and yet he didn't cough at all. Suddenly, an idea hit Alira.  
"Wait! You haven't coughed since we got in from the storm!" she cried. The storm in question was still raging outside, worse than ever, and it was already deep in the night.  
His face lit up when he realized she was right, then darkened with questioning. "What do you think is wrong?"  
"Not what do I think is wrong, but what I think is right! Ever since we started talking, you've been laughing and having fun, and you haven't coughed at all!" She said excitedly.  
Raistlin calmed down after hearing her theory. His golden skin glittered, and his eyes sparkled as he thought about what she just said. Then, after a few moments of measured silence, he perked up, grinned, and laughed again.  
"I think you may be right!" he said gleefully, almost happy enough to dance.  
The air filled soon with an awkward tension. Neither knew what to say next. But eventually, Raistlin struck up the conversation with another story, and they talked again until eventually they both began to feel the stresses of the day, and they had to sleep.  
  
A few hours later, they awoke. It was certainly dawn, if not a bit later, but they couldn't really tell. The storm still ruled. Alira felt disappointed, and started to become crabby. There was no way they would be at Qualinesti when they were supposed to be. She sighed, guessing that they would be willing to forgive her lateness. After all, no one has control over the weather, save the gods themselves.  
The cave was getting colder and colder by the second. Alira and Raistlin had to put the fire out before they slept, and in compensation had piled blankets on themselves. But now that they were awake again, they re- awoke the fire for warmth. Alira noticed that Raistlin seemed grumpy as well. They didn't speak.  
Alira warmed some food by the fire, and they two of them ate in silence. She made Raistlin his tea, but he pushed it away.  
"I have no need for it yet, and that stuff is foul enough that I wouldn't drink it unless I had to." He growled, though not rudely.  
She shrugged and with the flick of her wrist sent the liquid flying from the cup into the rain. Alira was tired of tea, and made for one of the packs at her saddle. She pulled a skin from a pack. It appeared to be full of water, to Raistlin, but he was intelligent enough to realize that Alira wasn't carrying water in a skin with the top screwed on so tightly. Water wasn't that precious. It was obvious to Raistlin that it was wine.  
And it was one thing Alira learned about Raistlin that was true. In the time she spent conversing with him, she had learned that when they told her that he was scarily intelligent, they were not lying. They weren't exaggerating, either. He was much smarter than she had thought he would be, though he didn't flaunt his intelligence. She knew that he knew she carried a wineskin. She felt rather guilty. She was not the type of person who frequently drank. Occasionally, a nice glass with a meal was fine, but she abhorred people who drank themselves into a stupor. It disgusted her, and as a result she tended to avoid wine.  
Raistlin didn't mind wine, but he, too, tended to associate it with drunkards. He hadn't had wine in quite a while, though, and the beverage was enough to pique his interest.  
"Wine?" he asked, though he knew very well what it was.  
"Yes. Elven. A gift from Par-Salian, he always had a good taste for Elven wines." Alira said, opening the skin and sniffing the contents.  
She poured herself a taste, then looked at Raistlin, and poured him one as well. She offered him the cup, and he accepted it graciously. Taking a sip, even he could tell it was a very fine wine. It was light, and sweet, with a delicate bouquet. He savored it, and swallowed. She did much the same thing, appreciating the fine Elven wine despite the fact that she knew nothing about wine.  
They sat in silence some more. She didn't pour more wine. Alira had closed the skin as quickly as she had opened it, and tucked it back away. Raistlin took out a book of spells, studying, and Alira suddenly felt compelled to do the same. She was, after all, as much a mage as he was. Besides, she felt guilty for having been too obsessed with this trip to crack a book.  
Before long, both were busy committing spells to memory. They constantly rose from their studies, at odd intervals, to check and see if the storm had shown signs of abating. It didn't. They returned to studying only to repeat the same gesture later.  
  
It was suddenly boring. Not the studying, this time, but just being there was boring. He was bored, and yet busy. In his opinion, it was a strange combination. But he sat silently, working.  
He glanced up to see Alira looking out into the storm, a depressed look on her face.  
"Why so sad?" he asked her. Raistlin had gotten used to asking her how she was feeling. She snapped her head to look at him.  
"I- I don't really know. I think I'm just upset about being late." She said, pushing a strand of renegade hair behind her ear.  
"Hm." He said, unable to fake interest. He chewed at his lip as he concentrated on the proper pronunciation of the spell. He was getting seriously close to writing it down, but he didn't have a spare bit of parchment.  
"Alira?" he asked, still frowning over the alluring spell.  
"Yes?"  
"Do you have any spare parchment?"  
"No."  
Raistlin cursed, to Alira's surprise. He didn't curse often, and he knew it, but he didn't care. He was genuinely upset about not being able to grasp the spell.  
"Which spell?" she asked, instinctively knowing what was wrong.  
"Come." He said, inviting her to take a look. She set her book down, carefully marking her page, and walked calmly over to where he sat. Sitting next to him, she peered onto the page.  
"Oh, I know that one! Took me a few days, but I understood it eventually." She commented. A pang of jealousy flew through Raistlin, but he suppressed it. In retaliation, he didn't ask her to help him. He waited until she offered, and then accepted.  
"Okay, firstly, you've got to think about the regular sleep-spell. Ast tasarak sinuralan krynawi. I think what you are getting wrong about this particular spell is the vowels, that's what I was doing wrong. So use the same vowels as in the sleep-spell."  
He did. It worked.  
"Thank you." He said, being cordial, she smiled at him. Something happened, it was his stomach or something, it seemed as though it had done a flip. 


	6. Chapter 6: A Start

Note: Yes, I know things were sad last chapter, but there is a reason.heehee  
Again: I KNOW I don't own Dragonlance, but I DO own Alira! So there! (sigh, I wish I had Raistlin, though.) Chapter 6:  
Alira woke up, not realizing she had drifted to sleep, and found that the storm had weakened. The thunder was less frequent, and the rain not as frantic.  
Raistlin, who had also eventually given in, was still sleeping.  
Alira got up and stretched, working the cramps from her back and neck and sighing loudly as she wiped her face. The fire had gone down, and she could see that Raistlin was probably cold from the way he was curled up. She wasted no time in bringing the fire back to life, though it wasn't nearly as strong as before.  
  
Raistlin awoke to the sounds of sizzling meat and frying bread. The scent reached his nostrils, beckoning, pushing him to wake. For once, he was hungry.  
"Want some?" Alira asked, using a fork to pull a slab of bread and a few sausages off the frying pan. She held the plate to him, and he took it gratefully, thanking her with his eyes.  
They ate quietly, listening to the rain and occasionally looking up to see what the other was doing. They finished in silence.  
"Here, I'll take them." Alira said, reaching out for his plate and utensils. He coughed, and Alira shoved his tea into his hands, already made.  
She inched over to the mouth of the cave, thrusting the dishes out for the water to take care of. He chuckled.  
"I never liked doing dishes." She said, with a smile.  
Suddenly, for no reason at all, they both laughed.  
Alira took out the wine again, getting bored and wanting something to do other than study. This time, she poured a full cup for herself, and then for Raistlin.  
"Be careful! This is strong stuff, and if you drink it too much too fast, you'll be drunk before you swallow!" She warned, taking a rather large sip out of hers.  
  
Two minutes later, they were sitting down, laughing wildly about random things and having no idea about what they were talking about.  
"You know.I never, ever had a girlfriend.'cuz CARAMON took them ALL!" Raistlin giggled wildly, screaming.  
Alira burst into a fresh bout of laughter. "Guess what? Me too! No! Caramon didn't take 'em.they just were afraid of my maaagical powersh!"  
Now, the smart part of Alira was wondering how on Krynn Raistlin got drunk. He definitely had more self-control than that. There had to be a reason. Her subconscious decided to mess with her drunken mind.  
"Hey.why did you get drunk!" she said obstinately, as though getting drunk was her special privelage.  
"'Cuz I'm trying to get over aaaall of my troubles." He hiccupped.  
"You don't have troubles.you're the special magical mage." She hissed.  
"Yah! I have lotsa troubles! I killed my brother during my test! And, and, I think Fistandeelus has taken something from me, but I really don't know.and, and.I'm still a virgin! HAH!" he cried.  
Alira went into detail about all the things that were bad about her life ("I accidentally set a cat on fire once!) and they soon both passed out.  
  
"Why did you do that!" Mishakal cried to her consort, Paladine.  
"I know it doesn't look right now, love, but I believe this will help them both out later."  
"How can being drunk and losing consciousness help anybody? All they found out was that they are both virgins, and now Alira knows about him killing his brother and being linked to Fist.an.dantilus." The Goddess of healing slowed down considerably when she realized what she just said.  
"No, you don't mean to." she started, staring wide-eyed at her beloved God of goodness.  
"Yes, love, I do. For those who have loved can never forsake love." He told his love, and they both left together, leaving the matter of Raistlin Majere and Alira Lintharin Calion to fate now.  
  
Strangely, the two red-robes awoke with no signs of hangover. They had no idea at all about what had happened, only that they had fallen asleep and re-awoken later to find that the storm had reduced to a trickling drizzle.  
"I'm going mad. We have to leave." Alira ordered, standing tall next to Raistlin. They were about the same size, so it was difficult for her to seem very commanding in front of him. "Do you think you can ride, despite your cough?"  
"We are already abominably late, I think I can withstand a drizzle if it means we might get to Qualinesti quicker." He said, his voice taking on its usual dreary cynical tone.  
With both of them working, they had the cave clean in minutes. They each donned a heavy cloak and left the cave, doing their best to ignore the rain. Raistlin and Alira rode next to each other, and they kept their hoods thrown over their heads.  
"Well, this isn't that bad." Alira said cheerfully, as the drizzling began to slow. The sun seemed to peek through, as though struggling for freedom.  
"It could be worse." Raistlin agreed.  
"What robes did you think you would attain before your Test?" she asked, a question common enough among young mages who had just won their robes.  
"I did not think about it. I was more preoccupied with wondering if I would pass." He replied truthfully. "And you?"  
"Most mages say they thought they would end up in Solinari's order. I knew I didn't want black, but I wasn't too sure about white, either. I never took my own guess, but I suppose I was just so undecided that red was all that was left to me." She answered.  
"Few people would be so truthful." Raistlin said.  
"I know."  
"Do you have many friends?" He asked her, keeping his face from her eyes.  
"I did, at one time. But when I first went to learn magic, I slowly lost them all. Before long, it was only the magic that I cared about."  
"What about now?" He asked earnestly.  
She turned to face him, and saw that his golden eyes shone even from the depths of his hood. It was frightening. "The magic.is all."  
Her reply was final, but it obviously didn't satisfy Raistlin.  
"Do you believe that, truly?"  
"Don't you?" she countered, suddenly feeling defensive. Of course magic was all to her, that was why she was able to pass her Test.  
"Magic is all I will ever have," he said softly.  
"Do you believe that?" she attacked him, aggressively challenging his beliefs.  
"Of course I do!" he snapped. "But do you?"  
  
"As much as you believe, I believe." She stated confidently.  
She was more right than she would ever know.  
  
It was getting dark. The rain had stopped, but the reek of it was everywhere. The horses were slicked from hooves to belly with mud; a few flecks even hit the boots of the riders. The crickets chirped madly, and the frogs competed.  
Alira knew then that they were in the land of the Elves, but they had not yet reached the city. They were very close, though, and Alira was certain they would reach it before Solinari and Lunitari met in the sky with Nuitari.  
She was right. They arrived shortly, going straight to where they were told to go: the very place where the Speaker of the Sun resided.  
  
"You are late." An Elf met them in the small audience room they were taken to. They still dripped mud.  
"Oh, really, I couldn't tell. In case you didn't know, there was a rather bad storm out." Raistlin's rude side was showing, and it pricked the Elf's ego.  
"Of course I noticed!" the Elf snapped. "I was directed to tell you something you might deem important to know. For once, Astinus has sent one of his representatives to Qualinesti to visit you and tell you something of importance. But because you took so long, he is now in Solace. I was directed to tell you that it would be prudent if you went there, now. We will, however, be more than glad to allow you to stay here for a few days in order to recuperate from your journey."  
The young Elf's politeness was clearly only present through force of will. He escorted them, his face a mask of ice, to the tower they would be staying. Their rooms were next to each other, but drastically different. It must have been some Elven fluke, or perhaps magic, that molded the rooms to their inhabitant's personalities.  
While Alira's was plain, it had simple luxuries. A desk with parchment and quills ready for a studious mage, a delicate, intricately carved wardrobe, beautiful chairs carved from some rare woods, and a huge four-poster bed with a draping canopy of gauzy material embroidered with green leaves and brilliant red flowers. The floor was carpeted with prized Elven carpets that were a beauteous representation of nature at its finest. She smiled, and turned around to face the forbidding but beautiful Elf who had escorted her and Raistlin there.  
"Please, give my regards to the Speaker, and thank you for escorting me." She said, reaching out and hugging him close. Elves don't mind such contact, to them a hug and kiss is certainly an appropriate greeting. The hug she gave the un-named Elf was purely and obviously one of polite acceptance.  
Raistlin couldn't understand why it boiled his blood.  
"You are certainly welcome. I will have a few servants bring your things to your room later. You will find suitable clothing and a set of robes in the wardrobe. I will send someone with your meal later. If you two wish to eat together, perhaps discuss traveling plans, there is a room straight down this hall, next to the bath-room, that will most definitely be empty and available." He said, considerably nicer when he realized that Alira was kind.  
She bade Raistlin and the Elf good night, and closed her door. She could hear the doors opening and closing as Raistlin entered his room.  
First things first, she wanted a bath! Luckily for her, the bath-room was not far. She opened the wardrobe, hoping for a bathrobe to be included, and was pleased to see that they Elves had thought to leave one there.  
Alira stripped out of her damp, mud-stained clothing and slipped into the warm, fluffy robe, tying it tightly about her waist and slipping her feet into slippers. She quietly opened her door. The hall was well-lit, and warm, so she stepped out and slipped towards her objective.  
Opening the bath-room's doors, she was happy with the way the room was set up. There were five other doors, and behind each door was the actual bath and toilet. Choosing the first one, she twisted the door-handle to see if it was locked. It wasn't, but she still cracked it open a tiny bit to be sure no one else was there.  
Alira held her breath when she realized that her suspicions were correct. Someone was there. It was obvious who it was, for there were very few people in the world with brilliant golden skin and shoulder-length silvery hair. His back faced her, luckily. Raistlin had beaten her to the bath. Quietly she closed the door, suppressing a girlish giggle.  
She closed the door as quickly as she had opened it, and made her way to the second door. This one, she found, was empty. The one flaw she had found so far with the hospitality of the Elves was that the doors didn't have locks. But as far as Alira was concerned, that was practically nothing.  
She drew the bath, surprised to see that it was warm, and slipped the luxurious robe from her skin. The room itself was tiled in some fine marble, but around the bath it was some strange material that Alira didn't recognize. The pool was tiled, though she did not recognize that material either. She slipped in, finding herself submerged to her chest in the deepest part, and to her waist in the shallow half. She sunk herself to the bottom, dunking her hair.  
Alira bathed quickly, watching as the revolutionary water system managed to drain all the soapy water away and replace it just as quickly with fresh, clean warm water. When she was finished, she noticed that the water had a light perfume of roses to it. She smiled as she dozed in the steam-filled room, enjoying the feel of the lapping water against her bare skin. Her hair was soft, and smelled sweet and clean. Alira was, in all, very content.  
Finally, though, she felt she had to leave the soothing rose-scented waters. Too much of a good thing can be bad, after all. With a sigh, she pulled herself from the tub, which was sunken into the floor, and walked, quickly, to her robe. It was surprising, how marvelously beautiful and yet functional the Elves managed to make everything. She saw towels near the hook, and decided to towel herself off before slipping in.  
When she was finally ready to leave, she was clean, comfortable, and dry but for her hair, which she wrapped in a towel. She opened the door, and found Raistlin next to her, tying his robe closed around his waist. This towel-robe left considerably less to imagination of the body than his red ones. She could tell that he was built much as his brother, only with fine bones and a bit more of a delicate strength kind of structuring. Had he worked his muscles more, he could definitely be buff. He had strong shoulders, though they were used to hunching, and a narrow waist that was used to coughing. He was fairly tall, now that she thought of it, seeing that he was also a bit taller than she was.  
"Alira." He said, more of a greeting than a realization.  
"Hello, Raistlin." She said, still in a calm, soothing, philosophical mood from her time in the bathing room.  
He had time to contemplate his feelings about that hug in his room, and in the bath, and it was half-explained notions and dozens of other reasons that explained his next action. It really wasn't a conscious decision. It was confusion that drove him to it.  
Raistlin moved awkwardly forward, at the last minute, bringing his arms up and encasing Alira in them. At first shocked, especially since she wore nothing under these robes, Alira actually stiffened in his grip. He was going to let go, sensing her discomfort, but then she put her arms around him, holding him as tightly as he held her.  
  
Her head felt perfectly natural, it fit perfectly in that little nook of his shoulder. Her eyes closed. Suddenly, she could tell every degree they shifted in their embrace.  
Raistlin was done with this experiment. He pulled his head from its leaning position against her fragrant hair, and slowly pulled away from her, feeling her arms slide from him as his slid from her.  
Without a word, they stepped back, studying each other, and he walked out of the room.  
Alira waited until she heard his door close to go to her room. 


	7. Chapter 7: Slow Realization

Chapter 7:  
When Alira finally made it back to her room, she refused to think about what had happened. She opened the wardrobe immediately to see what clothing was there.  
"What!" she cried. There weren't any robes, but for a pair of dove- gray ones that would be blasphemous for her to wear, as a mage of Lunitari. She nearly cursed. But, there are some mages that don't wear their robes all the time. Some only wear them on special occasions. Alira prayed fervently to Lunitari, apologizing fervently and explaining her situation. Her goddess was a merciful one, though, and Alira was fairly certain no vengeance would be taken.  
There were many dresses, though as they were all Elven, they were all alluring. Alira finally settled on a red skirt and bodice, both chased at them hems and neckline with brown, green, and gold embroidery of birds and ivy. The dress fit perfectly, though its square neck was a source of discomfort. She had never had a chance to get used to truly womanish dresses, and this was the first she had worn. The neckline barely revealed a bit of cleavage, but it was enough to make her self-conscious. She forced herself to get used it, and eventually she did. She slid her feet into matching red slippers. Alira regarded herself in the mirror. She was lucky, for her waist was trim and slender, giving her an hourglass-shape despite her not-wide-enough hips. Her mother had always criticized her for not having what she called "child-bearing" hips. They were wide, but her mother claimed they were never wide enough. Alira couldn't have cared less, and still didn't. The plain clothing looked very good on her, though, and the red with her brown hair was pretty. The green thread in the embroidery looked perfect with her greenish-brown eyes, too. She sat on her bed after taking a good look at herself, and lay down, careful not to muss her dress, bedding, or hair.  
  
Raistlin shook in his room. He could not believe what he had just done. He let his foolish emotion take control. Cursing himself, he flung the door to his plain wooden wardrobe open, and cursed louder when he saw the gray robes. He was going to have to wear the tight pants of the Elves. He wasn't used to such clothes, but he had no other choice. He pulled a plain red shirt from the closet, and a pair of brown pants. Raistlin dressed quickly, finally shoving his feet into his socks and boots.  
He didn't know why there was a mirror, and before he realized it, he was looking into it. Raistlin felt a stab of hatred for his golden flesh, which looked odd in everything. But, no, it was the price he had paid for his ability. He forced himself to accept it. The pants were uncomfortably tight. But that was because he wasn't used to them. After stalking around his room, pacing and muttering about random things, he soon found that they were comfortable, and he didn't mutter about the clothes any more. Raistlin's room was devoid of all furniture but for a plain bed with gray bedding and pillow, and a plain desk with one hard chair. He yanked the chair out in bad temper, and sat in it.  
  
Alira heard a light tap at her door.  
"Come in." she called, not asking whom it was. She still dozed on her bed.  
A small Elven maid came in, a silver tray in her hands, and set it down on the desk.  
"Thank you, my regards to the cook." Alira said, slowly rising from the bed and walking to where the food was.  
"Will you be eating with the, er, mage in the next room?" the maid asked. "He hasn't been given his food yet, in case the decision would be made that you two would dine together."  
"Ask him first, it is his decision." She said, not wanting to be responsible for stirring any negative feelings.  
She waited for the maid to disappear and return before saying or doing anything.  
"He, ah, doesn't seem to be in the best temper. I'm afraid its your decision." The little maid came back in, looking scared. Alira decided that they would be eating together. She had to do something about his treatment of others. He was nice enough to her, but he scared the poor maid out of her wits.  
  
Raistlin ended up sitting right in front of her at a small table in a large room. The room was lovely, but Alira didn't have the time to admire it. The meal was set in front of them. Human fare, not Elven, it was a simple but absolutely delightful beef stew with carrots, potatoes, and onion. The Elves managed to make even a common dish superb with some unknown technique.  
She served herself first, surprised to see the utensils, plates, and serving vessel was all in fine quality silver.  
As she took her first bite, she noticed that there was a bottle of wine on the table, and in their glasses was a deep red wine. She appreciated it, knowing that this was probably expensive wine, and took a sip of it.  
Raistlin ate in silence.  
"You scared the poor girl to death." Alira said, conversationally, spearing a potato.  
"I was not in the best temperament."  
"It seems as though you are always in a foul temperament."  
"Not when I'm." he started, cutting himself off before his brash sentence could be finished.  
"-With me?" Alira finished for him. "I know. It seems as though being forced to spend a few days with me has made you realize that being mean to me will just make the whole trip worse for you. But just because you aren't stuck with the Elves for a few more days doesn't mean you have to be rude. Please, will you make an attempt at kindness? I know you can."  
It seemed as though the lecture she had planned was not needed. Raistlin was instantly better behaved. When an Elven man came and asked if he could borrow the wine (apparently another group dined on the far side of the room), Raistlin replied with a considerably more polite tone. Alira beamed at him.  
"See, you can be nice! Anyway, the plan, as far as I've thought of it, is simple. We leave tomorrow, according to the Elves; the weather should be much nicer. We journey to Solace, and find out what we were supposed to be told. As far as I know, that's where we change courses. I go back to the Tower, you do whatever else there is to do." She said around a mouthful. She could have sworn his face seemed to fall.  
"You look nice in the dress." He said, trying to be polite and conversational. She beamed at him, though her smile faltered at first.  
"Thank you, you look very nice too. Perhaps you should wear clothing under your robes as well." She said mischievously.  
He smiled and they laughed. When Alira glanced over at the next table, she saw the Elves there were staring in wonder at the laughing mages. Alira thought, triumphantly, that they probably recognized Raistlin and were surprised to see him laughing.  
See, he is a decent person! She felt like calling to them, nearly bursting.  
"You." Raistlin started awkwardly.  
"What, now that you've started learning how to compliment people, you're stumbling over a simpler sentence?" Alira joked. He chuckled with her.  
"I was going to say that you have a very nice laugh."  
Alira felt as though he had thrown something at her head. In a way he did. She realized the motive behind his behavior. It was the only possible motive, and at first she couldn't believe it.  
He liked her.  
A lot.  
Another thing hit her, even harder than the first.  
She liked him.  
A lot.  
She kept chewing, though, pretending as though nothing had changed.  
"Thank you. It's nice to hear you laugh, too. You don't smile often, but its nice when you do."  
The time for compliments ended as soon as it began. The two of them soon became absorbed in a random conversation about quills and ink. Raistlin was telling her that his favorite feather was eagle, though it was a common favorite. Even Alira liked it, and she abhorred the killing of eagles for quills.  
  
They went to bed that night in their respective rooms, with something knew to think on.  
Alira didn't fall asleep until very late, her thoughts tormenting her.  
Raistlin fell asleep with a grin on his face. 


	8. Chapter 8: The Gods's Eyes

Note: I know this is a short chapter! But I've got a little monkey here who refuses to leave me be so I can write. It wants internet access immediately, and so I either relinquish the computer or put up with her foul odor.  
Again: I don't own Dragonlance or any of its related stuff. I do own Alira and all of my original ideas, and taking them is against the law! I SUE YOU!  
  
Chapter 8:  
When Alira awoke, she had forgotten where she was. Sunlight streamed through her huge window, glistening in the glass and casting shadows. She coaxed herself out of bed, half-asleep, and found that none of her stuff was anywhere in the room. Upon opening the wardrobe, though, she found a clean set of clothing just like the ones she had before, only much nicer. This time, there was a set of red robes. She thanked Lunitari as she dressed. There was no need to bathe, and she felt that if she did she would never want to leave. Alira had a fleeting desire to meet the Speaker, the Elven King, but decided against it. If she got attached to this place in any way, it would make traveling with Raistlin more tedious than it used to be.  
When she opened her door, an Elven woman greeted her warmly, and then silently escorted her back to the main gates, where their horses and supplies would be waiting them.  
"Thank you very much for your hospitality." Alira said politely, seeing that Raistlin was already there, waiting until she arrived to prepare to mount his fresh horse. There were different horses this time. Raistlin had a large, gorgeous bay stallion, with a coat touched by honey, leaving the sleek black for her. The horse she was on was a mare, like the one she had ridden before, but larger and with a racer's blood in her. She was gorgeous, a truly black horse that would melt into shadows and night. Raistlin greeted her with a smile, waiting until she was ready to get on the horses.  
After exchanging, for a second time, parting proprieties, they rode off again.  
  
Elven horses are superior to others, Alira noticed at first. They were smarter, for one, and much more powerful.  
"They threw out all of our old things, save our books." Raistlin commented, bringing it to her attention. She was surprised; she hadn't noticed that even the saddles were new. Everything was fine, and of superior make to the older ones that they had used before. Alira could tell this would be a fresh, clean start.  
  
The storm was gone, and now Krynn blossomed. The grass seemed greener, everything smelled fresher and looked brighter, and a cheerful feeling became contagious. Even Raistlin had a gleam in his eyes that wasn't greed or anger. Alira sang softly to herself, some nonsense song that she didn't truly know the words to.  
  
And all the girls from miles around,  
Will fight like wild cat and hound,  
But when he marries.she'll be bound,  
To Dark-haired Jimmy Owen! (A/N: This song was borrowed, all credit goes to Scartaglen!)  
  
She sang to herself softly, an entertaining song that she had heard often, though she could not remember when. Alira nearly fell off of her horse when she noticed Raistlin crooning with her, his voice deeper, adding a strange harmony to the simple country remedy. They both broke off, turned to look at each other.  
"Where did you hear that?" Alira asked.  
"At a fair." A painful memory, golden-red curls bouncing in his mind again, pricked him, but he refused to think of it while Alira was with him. This girl, he knew, was better than that. "You?"  
"I'm not too sure. When I think about the lyrics, I can't remember them." She replied, with a chuckle. He laughed with her.  
It was fun, Raistlin found. Laughing. It wasn't nearly as painful for him as it used to be, when he was a strange, unhealthy child with an acrid scent of illness about him. Now, however, he felt fresh and changed. As though the storm had cleared from him his faults. The storm, or Alira? Raistlin's mind taunted. He hushed it with an inward backhand blow. He knew the truth of it now, but refused to move yet. Raistlin had no experience whatsoever when it came to girls. He was not going to be his brother, and lumber into it with the wit of a bull. He would do it the way the stories went. Sweep her off her feet, or at least make sure it was a mutual feeling first. Raistlin knew that girls could hurt as much with a smile as they could heal, and kept inside his shell for fear of pain.  
  
Alira, herself, had about as much experience as Raistlin, though she had never had her heart broken. She didn't know about his pain, else she probably would have attempted to comfort him, as was her nature. Strangely, she thought of Mishakal and Paladine. They are the God of Good, and the Goddess of Healing, the parents of Solinari. Lunitari, Alira's goddess, was the only natural daughter of Gilean, god of Neutrality, though her mother was unknown to all but Gilean. Meanwhile the other god of magic, dark Nuitari was the son of Queen Takhisis, Her Dark Majesty, the Goddess of all that is Dark and Evil. For some reason, the thought of Takhisis sent shivers up her skin, where they never did before.  
"Enough of the gods," she muttered to herself.  
"Pardon?" Raistlin inquired.  
"Nothing, just thinking about the gods." She said, promising herself that she would never make the mistake of muttering in front of him. He listened well.  
Raistlin was silent, Alira was silent, but the air was full of sounds. Everything from the whisper of wind through tree limb, to the cries of birds on wing permeated the air. The perfumes of flowers and aromatic greenery filled the senses, trying to allure you to calmness. They enjoyed the outdoors, the warm sun bathing their cloaked bodies. It got warmish, under the robes, but they did not mind. They basked in the glory of youth, still in the forests of the Elves.  
  
It didn't take very long to get to Solace, and the rest of the trip was filled with silence and mild conversation about irrelevant things.  
  
Finally back in Solace, Raistlin took charge of their direction. Alira followed Raistlin uneasily. She hadn't been to Solace before, though the little town was famous. Raistlin maneuvered to a local inn, The Inn of the Last Home, where he insisted they would find good rooms and food. He got them two rooms, then ordered a large order of spiced potatoes and brought it upstairs with them. In his room, they ate, and Alira soon found why the ale and potatoes of the inn were famous. They laughed and ate, Alira ignoring the fact that he kept a black cloak on and refused to bare any flesh in Solace.  
"They know me here." He counted that a good enough explanation. A young, too-pretty barmaid with amazingly red bouncing curls sparked jealousy in Alira, though she couldn't understand what she was jealous about. Raistlin obviously didn't give her a second look, and she paid no attention to him. (A/N: according to someone I know, these paragraphs are incorrect b/c certain teachers told them ages ago that all paragraphs should have five to six sentences. Oh, well, they can tell that to the guy who's gonna publish my books!)  
They slept that night in their separate rooms, and Raistlin decided that night that he would find a way to force her to stay in Solace one extra day, so he could show here the place he grew up.  
  
That night, Alira had the strangest feeling that someone was watching her. But it wasn't that usual, over-your-shoulder type of watching, but more of a divine type of watching.  
  
The eyes of the gods were upon her, and there was nothing she could do about it. They watched, finally dipping their hands in mortal affairs, for they knew that if they didn't, the souls of two mages would be destroyed.and with their souls, their hearts.  
  
Another note: Yes, at this moment, I am branching off from Dragonlance's original books and purposes. I am now taking charge and doing what I want. Doing what I feel is necessary to "save their hearts and souls". Keep reading, and perhaps you'll see what I mean. For those of you who want me to say it easier terms, here I go: I'm changing everything right now. Meaning, it's possible that things you enjoyed in the real Dragonlance books may not happen. However, the whole deal with Crysania and Raistlin and Takhisis will happen, just not the way it did in the books. Enjoy, and I appreciate all of your comments greatly! Yes, I know this is a bit of a spoiler, but I wanted to give you guys a bit of a warning so you don't start hating me. To all of you people who have reviewed my story: I really appreciate all of your comments, (as I said before) and I look forward to hearing from you guys every day! I promise you here and now that I will turn out at least one chapter a day. Enjoy! 


	9. Chapter 9: Message from Astinus

Note: Okay, I'll have to admit to something. There will be a short period in which I will not be posting anything.why? Because my real life, sadly, will call me away on vacation.sorry! But I will make up for it by posting as much as possible before I'm gone! And, of course, after I get back! Again: I don't own Dragonlance, blah blah blah.but everything else is MINE you THIEF!  
  
Chapter 9:  
When Alira woke, she instantly missed the Elves and their room. However, her little inn-room in Solace was lovely. It was quaint, with plain wooden furniture, and a nice window that let in the sun amidst the branches of the huge vallenwood tree it was located in. The trees were enchanting. They were absolutely gigantic, with stairs and lifts running up and down the trunks. People trafficked the stairs as often as the ground floor, and lifts were always being lowered and pulled up to bring supplies up. Alira felt as though she were home, in the cozy little area.  
She got up, not bothering to bathe, since she wasn't sure where she could go for ablutions, and dressed. As she donned her robes, she remembered why she and Raistlin were there.  
She was afraid Raistlin had forgotten, and was right in her fear. He had forgotten, and she knocked loudly on his door to remind him. When he didn't answer, she opened the door a tiny bit and walked in.  
Raistlin lay in bed, his covers tangled about him. She nearly backpedaled out of the room when she realized that he didn't sleep in his robes. As a matter of fact, he slept in nothing. It shocked her, but she calmly retreated, and instead knocked louder on his door. His eyes finally flew open, the black hourglasses of his pupils becoming larger and then smaller as they adjusted.  
"What is it?" he called. Alira shook her head, and sighed.  
"We were here for a reason you know! Astinus's representative? We have to find him!"  
"Did the Elves tell us where the representative was staying?" Raistlin asked. Alira could hear the bedding rustle as Raistlin got out.  
"No. We'll have to find out for ourselves.will it be hard?"  
"Of course not. This is a small town, everyone knows everything about everyone."  
  
Raistlin was right. It took them approximately half of a minute to find out where the representative was.  
"Hello, have you seen a representative from Astinus here?"  
"Yes. He's at that table right now, eating the bread."  
The two mages made their way over, Raistlin calm and Alira astounded at how easy that was.  
"I am Raistlin Majere, and this is Alira." Raistlin said.  
"I am Frein. Astinus sent me."  
"Yes. We know. For what?" Raistlin's sentences were clipped, and to the point. Alira didn't know why she left the talking to him, but he seemed to have everything under control, so she let him have it.  
It didn't take long to get to business, fortunately.  
"Astinus has sent me with a bit of a forewarning. Don't ask me any questions, because I will tell you everything I know, and I probably will not know the answers to your questions." The little man said. Alira noticed he was quite short, with dusky gray hair that was once blonde. His shrewd eyes, set in his wizened and tanned face, were blue as a summer sky. Where those eyes would be beautiful and deep on a younger man, they were hard and calculating on this one. Raistlin slipped into his old listening mode, preparing to capture and store each word like a precious gem.  
"You two were set together by no coincidence. As far as we know, the gods must have done something to bring you two together and change the course of time as we know it.  
"Alira: all of your past has been a lie. Your Elven blood has granted you more time on Krynn than you know, and a few years of that time was spent in training as an assassin. We don't know who trained you, why they trained you, when exactly, or anything of that nature. We just know you were trained as an assassin, but that you never saw action.  
"Raistlin: your part in history has already been determined, though with Alira's arrival, it will soon change. Had things continued the way they were going before you two met, it is very likely that most magic would be lost from Krynn, leaving us in an age of mortals. I have no idea exactly what is supposed to happen, though I know one thing. You would originally go and try to defeat Queen Takhisis and take her place as God of Darkness. We don't know what will happen now. It's possible you may do the exact same thing.but it is also possible that the exact opposite happens. Only the gods know your purposes, though I suspect their meddling means that your original purpose will deviate from its path.  
"Together, you two have a few certain things you must accomplish for everything to transition smoothly. Unfortunately, we only know where you have to go to do this. We tried to find out these challenges, but there was no way for us to. Astinus himself couldn't penetrate to find the secret. You will stay in Solace for three days, then move on to Silvanesti. The Elves will let you in, and you will spend two or three nights there as well. Look for an inn called the Silver Bell.  
"After Silvanesti, you will come back to Solace. Here, you will stay until further instruction.  
"Do you understand?" Ferian said, strictly and clearly.  
"Of course." Alira choked, still stuck on his first words about her life. Assassin? Surely not!  
Raistlin sat quietly and took this all in, his old nature slowly seeping back. But then, he glanced at Alira, and felt it all melt from him. That must be part of it. He was certain that if he hadn't met her, he would still be a cynical, rude, arrogant, etc. person. That was the key. She was deviating him from his original life-path by changing his very nature! And yet, he found that he did not hate her for this odd change.  
  
She cried. Up in her room in the inn, she cried. Not a full-out weep, or a wild bawl, she just cried. Softly, quietly, the tears engraved their crystalline tracks down her cheeks, marking her as one who grieved. Occasionally, a loud sniffle, perhaps a whimper, penetrated the still quiet. Alira was used to her perfect, uneventful life. Now? She thought she may be in love with a mage who apparently would have someday challenged the Dark Seductress herself for a seat as a god! And she finds out that it is her job to help save Krynn, basically, from losing its magic. And, of all things, she finds out that a few years of her life, which she cannot remember, were stolen from her for training as an assassin.and she never even used her skills! She noticed that she slowly got leaner and muscular, had an easier command with weapons as she grew older, but she had never guessed it was due to training!  
"Stop sniveling!" She chided herself. "It helps nothing, and there's nothing to cry about! No one died, you're just.confused."  
She heard a soft rap at her door. Quickly, she cleaned her face off and took out a book, trying to look like she was studying all along. "Come in!"  
  
Raistlin peered inside, still wearing a brown cloak. She looked up and smiled at him, showing no signs of her previous depression.  
"Hello, Raist." She greeted him genially. He pulled the hood down, revealing his white hair and golden face, and smiled at her. Raistlin grabbed a chair and pulled it over to the bed, where she sat. Sitting, he looked rather like he was waiting for her to say something.  
"Are you all right?" he asked. Alira cursed herself for crying, but then realized that he probably wouldn't know if she didn't tell him.  
"Yes, are you?"  
"Of course. I was wondering if, perhaps, you would like to, er, well, just maybe," he started stumbling, screaming and cursing himself in his head for acting such a fool, "want to see a bit of Solace? I grew up here, and I thought you might like to see a bit of the town before we have to leave."  
Alira was surprised by his little invitation. It was sweet, and intriguing. "I'd love to."  
Alira beamed at him, and Raistlin felt like killing himself.  
Why?  
Because he realized that her happiness meant the world to  
him.  
And that could prove fatal.  
  
Note: Again, thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing my little novella. I just wanted to say thanks, it's actually quite nice to have actual mail in my mailbox, rather than junk about Viagra!  
Also: I would like to mention to everyone that I really, really will not appreciate it if Alira is "stolen". Firstly, she is one of my favorite characters, and after writing nine chapters with her as one of the main characters; she's already become one of my official "children" (god knows I have enough on my other computer!) and I love her. I've received a couple of e-mails from people wanting to use her in different ways (from just a mention of her to her as an actual character). I just can't let anyone after I saw a certain story (which has now been removed) from a certain site that did a few things that I really don't appreciate. I'm sorry, but I must protect my baby.  
In the meantime, please, if you have suggestions, comments, whatever, or if you're just bored and you want to talk.I don't mind receiving mail or IM's from people. ChicagirlRM, Arcuriel, or RealElfArcuriel are all AOL/AIM names I can be found on. Have fun reading! I'm working on Chapter 10~! 


	10. Chapter 10: A Dream

Chapter 10:  
Alira and Raistlin were walking down the hundreds of steps that swirled around the vallenwood. He kept his hood up, concealing his features. She, as usual, left her face and hair bare to the world wearing her robes.  
People stared. People tend to do that, stare at things they are curious about, or don't understand. In this case, no one could understand why such a beautiful young woman was the company of such a forbidding looking mage. They glared at him, but their gazes softened upon her. Raistlin noticed. Alira didn't.  
"It's so beautiful here!" she sighed, leaning close to him. His body was a pillar of strength, and she could instantly feel the tension in him by the way he stood.  
"What?" Alira asked, afraid of some sort of attack or danger. No wonder. She should have noticed before. She was always preparing for an attack.  
"Do you not notice!" he whispered fiercely. "They gawk at us like we're circus freaks. No, correction, the gawk at me like I'm a freak!"  
To her, his pain was an obvious thing, as palpable as a chill in the air. Her maternal, protection instinct sprung forth like blood from a wound. Alira's eyebrows furrowed as she leaned closer and suggested that perhaps he should pull his hood back.  
He hissed. "What do you mean? Give them more to laugh at! Better they laugh at my robes and demeanor than laugh at my skin and eyes."  
"Why? Have you not learned anything? They will accept you, I swear. They don't look at your appearance so much as they way you act! If you hold yourself with more confidence, start looking at people with more trust, maybe even go as far as to smile at random people, or compliment them, and perhaps then they'll look at you differently. No one ever said being liked was easy." She lectured, pulling his arm up and sticking her hand in the crook at his elbow.  
"For you it is!" he fought back, instantly wishing he hadn't said that. She looked at him calmly.  
"Because I've had practice at being nice."  
He was silent. Raistlin contemplated her words, then slowly pulled his hands up and drew his hood down. People stared worse than ever, this time wondering what a gold-skinned freak was doing with the beautiful young mage. He made an effort to be nice, not exactly by smiling, but by trying to give off a more approachable feeling. It didn't work immediately, but gradually people stopped staring at him for his looks.  
However, that wasn't because of his change of attitude. It was because they recognized him. Girls gaped open-mouthed at him, barely recognizing the sickly young boy who had studied magic in his youth. The boys and men were surprised that he was still alive, after hearing rumors about his being Tested.  
Once they realized it was Raistlin Majere, the same young man who was rumored to be an extremely powerful mage, they stopped glaring.out of fear more than out of respect. Raistlin didn't care. He was busy showing Alira the town, pointing out landmarks and telling short stories of incidents that happened as they walked.  
For them, time was non-existent.  
  
That night Alira had the strangest dream:  
  
She was in a forest. All around her, the silvery-barked trees had mist prowling along their trunks. The tall, majestic plants reared high, slender and beautiful as the Elves that lived amongst them. This forest, however, was virgin, and held great power of earth. The leaves of these strange trees were the deepest green imaginable, with their undersides as pale as the mist that moistened the ground.  
Alira breathed deeply, the scent of pure land filling her with calm surety. She wore a pale green dress, the shade of the undersides of the leaves above her head, which flowed from her shoulders to her slippered feet. She felt beautiful. Alira felt Elven.  
She turned around, as though expecting someone, and was not at all surprised when, from the dappled shadows and ethereal mist, a small girl stepped free. She was garbed similarly to Alira, only her dress was the palest hue of blue.  
Her hair, silvery as the bark of the trees, flowed unchecked to her waist. Thick and free, it was soft and shined with aching beauty. Her perfectly formed face showed the finest Elven features, and the ever-so- slightly pointed ears at the sides of her head only accented her face.  
But the feature that truly caught the imagination.the feature that filled one with an awe almost as powerful as that of dragonfear, was her eyes. They had an indescribable color, a color that everyone from poets to the everyday, common shepherd would ache to try and describe. Alira, however, knew in her heart what those eyes were.  
The Elven girls' eyes were the souls of stars. Two, perfectly matching souls, united in one face for a perfect unity that went unmatched by any beauty.  
The sight of this pure, untouched little child was enough to melt even the foulest dragon's heart. Enough to bring Queen Takhisis, Her Dark Majesty, the Unholy Seductress herself to believe in love, hope, and mercy. She was all that is good, and all that could be good.  
The girl pointed to Alira, a look of plain trust flecking her bright, almond-shaped eyes. She gestured, and Alira came close as she bade her to. The little girl gripped her hand, the slender bones of the smaller girl's little, fine-fingered hand closing gently and pulling ever-so-softly in a silent command. Alira did as the girl wished, and bent low to listen to what she had to say.  
Her voice was as beautiful as the rest of her, as clean, pure, and holy as anything could ever be. It was sweet, and yet bell-like, low and yet high. She whispered, but Alira could not make out the sweet syllables.  
She could only hear several words, but only two were imprinted on her mind well enough to follow to her to her grave. "- love Raistlin."  
Yet, though Alira had no idea what came before or after that short phrase, Alira somehow understood. She rose to her full height, looking down on the Elven child. Compassion shone on their faces, sympathy, and love followed. Alira didn't have the time to thank the girl, for all dreams must come to an end.  
  
Alira awoke in a cold sweat, with tears stinging against her cheeks and sorrow pulling at her like weights. She closed her eyes, sitting upright and rocking back and forth, cradling herself in her arms as she remembered the poetic beauty of the child whose name she never learned. She almost screamed when she heard the softest sound at her door, and her own whispered name. Raistlin. He had a tendency to show up at moments like this, but she was not in a state to care. She made a strange sound, somewhat like a whimper, and Raistlin took it to be an invitation. He entered, quietly, wearing his robes.  
He needn't ask her if she was okay. Raistlin just walked quietly to her bedside, sat down, and watched as her eyes turned to his. They welled with tears that he knew would spill once her eyelids twitched. They did, and before either knew it, she was crying softly. Awkwardly, Raistlin leaned forward and hugged her. Alira rested her cheek on his strong shoulder, wishing her tears away, hating herself for such weakness, and at the same time reveling in the remarkable changes in the man before her. Where once he would have ignored her pain, he now comforted her, eased her of it. He had become, amazingly, sensitive.  
She cried until she became drowsy, almost drunken on her own salt tears. He knew she was in no state for anything she said to be taken seriously. But he still felt the astounding effects of the way she said his name.  
"Raistlin."  
She need not go further, he understood. Shifting to a more comfortable position that he would be able to keep up for the night, he sat up on the bed, her cheek rested against his chest, and listened to her cry, patting her awkwardly, occasionally smoothing her hair. He began to mutter words meant to soothe. She didn't listen to what he said, but she listened to his voice. Before long, she was lulled into a drunken calmness. Total trust was all that existed between them at the moment.  
"I love you." Alira whimpered.  
Raistlin didn't reply.  
  
He stayed with her until both of them fell fast asleep.  
  
Note: I want lots of feedback on this one, and I certainly expect some! Things are moving along nicely, though every chapter seems to be shorter than the next. I just wanted to mention, that I have NO control over how long these chapters are. Think about it this way.could you ever write something, and then drop it when it was ready to be done? Or perhaps stretch something out longer than it should? Trust me, you who criticize me for length.I do it all for a reason!  
  
ALIRA IS MINE, though Dragonlance is not.enough said. 


	11. Chapter 11: Miranda and Raistlin's Gift

Chapter 11:  
Raistlin awoke, slowly, carefully, so as not to disturb the slumbering woman lying next to him. Her head still rested on his chest, and he could feel her soft breathing against his robes. Her soft hair was insane; it was tangled and thrown about everywhere, pell-mell. Even Raistlin had to admit that it looked kind of funny, but as he rested his head against her, and breathed in her scent, he no longer thought about her appearance.  
It was too much for him. Raistlin had never in his life been bombarded with so many strong feelings, and it confused him thoroughly. He hated it, not having complete control. Above all, he had always prided himself on his supreme will power, his ability to rise above all humanly feelings with his ambition.and now that was being torn from him.  
But a remarkable change took place that morning. He heard an audible snapping crackle, as though chains were being broken. Suddenly, an indescribable change took place. It was amazing. It was almost as though Raistlin's soul was.release. Freed. Raistlin was unfettered by something.  
He didn't know it was Fistandantilus.  
  
When Alira woke, she was surprised to see that Raistlin was still there with her. She vaguely remembered falling asleep with him near, but she hadn't remembered whether or not he left. Now, however, she was fairly certain he hadn't left.  
Quietly, slowly, she lifted her head from his chest; glad to see she hadn't drooled in her sleep. She knew she was a mess, yet still she looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back down at her, warmth radiating from his face.  
"The Elf-child." She whispered. "We need to find her."  
"What Elf?" he asked.  
"The one in my dream." She replied.  
"The one from last night? What happened?"  
"I don't really know. She said a lot of things, but I can't remember them! She was so beautiful.and I met her in the forest.she must be a Silvanesti Elf. We have to find her.that's why we need to go to Silvanesti. I'm sure of it!" she cried, suddenly frantic. He hushed her, trying to calm her down. After a while, she finally calmed enough to come to her senses.  
"Do you think we can leave today?" she asked.  
"As you wish." He said, hearing the order behind her words. Raistlin was packed and ready just as she finished with her own packing.  
  
They retrieved their horses and were soon riding on their way to Silvanesti, pointed towards the Elven land by a few of the kind people of Solace. They were riding through an area rather densely packed with people when Raistlin saw from the corner of his peripheral vision red-gold curls. Few people of Solace had curls, and few people carried them the way a certain person did. He paled, his gold skin losing luster. Jerking his hood to cover his face, and snapped his head away. Alira picked up on his actions immediately.  
"What?" she knew that after their talk he wouldn't put his hood up again without good reason. They stopped riding. She saw a heedful of glimmering red-gold curls bouncing her way in a hurry, as though trying to catch up with them. She didn't know anyone who carried herself such a way, and those who did were often not the kind of people Alira associated with. The woman's painted face was probably once beautiful, but now taut and lined. It spoke of the stresses of life in a small-town, with nothing to do but bear children and keep house. She had a fairly good figure, though she had probably borne a child, guessing by the teeniest, noticeable-probably- only-to-other-women pooch at her waist. Aside from that, though, she was pretty, though her best feature was the wild, seductive curls.  
"Majere!" she cried, her voice worn as her face.  
"Raistlin, who is that?"  
"Miranda." He whispered, pain and fear stemming out from that one name.  
"How? What?"  
Alira was fully confused. The woman caught up with them rather quickly. She seemed out of breath. "Where's Caramon?"  
Her question was quick, and eager. Raistlin had to grip his saddle to keep himself from reaching out and slapping her or punching her, or SOMETHING. His eyes narrowed. In sudden spite and hatred, he pulled his hood down, not bothering to conceal the simmering pain and anger he felt for her. She nearly fainted when she saw him.  
"Caramon," he spat the word the way you spit a vile curse, "isn't here. He will likely never come back. And if he does, I sincerely doubt it would be for love of you. You were not his first. Neither were you his last. He probably wouldn't remember you if you threw yourself at him the way you did years ago. Now, I will insist that you leave before your doltish company drives me to insanity.or worse, stupidity!"  
Alira was shocked. This was the Raistlin she was told about. This was the cruel, hard, barely human person she had been warned against. She thought she knew his bad side before, but this was unspeakable. She was nearly overpowered by the sudden aroma of rose petals, spices.. and something more. Something smelled like death.  
Miranda's eyes sparkled with tears. She stared open-mouthed at Raistlin. "But.Caramon."  
Despite the news she received, she couldn't help but feel a spark of hope. Until Raistlin crushed that as well.  
He sneered at her, glaring, delighting in the pain on her face. "Caramon. Caramon! Go back to your husband stop dreaming about when Caramon will take you back. He will never, ever come for you. Your time was over years ago. And now, I will leave, and you can snivel all you want about your long lost love."  
The last three words, spoken with spite and sickeningly sweet hatred sent the tears rolling down Miranda's face. She clutched her skirts about her as though they were all that remained of her honor, and turned around. She was gone. The wound in Raistlin's heart re-opened, though this time it might have a chance of healing.  
"I hope you had a reason to crush that poor girl!" Alira turned on him, the acid in her voicing matching his own tone when he spoke to her.  
"I don't want to talk about it."  
"You need to. If you don't, you'll never get better. What happened? What about your brother?" she softened, seeing that he was truly wounded, not just holding a childish grudge.  
Quietly, they rode on, and he whispered the story to her.  
"It was very long ago, and I was rather taken with her. She was the prettiest girl in town, sweet, always wore the nicest clothes because her parents owned the local cloth store and such. One day I bumped into her, and she was nice to me.suggested we might get together some time and talk. I was foolish, and full of ridiculous ideas that she might actually like me. Me, instead of Caramon. Anyway, that night, I was walking around, near her place, and debated whether or not to go and speak to her parents. Or to her. But it was rude for a young man to go about at night asking to see a young woman. So I didn't. But I heard a sound, I think it was some sort of storage shed, if I remember correctly. I don't really remember that part too well, as afterwards I found myself retching and drinking from a public barrel. But I remember that I figured I could catch the criminal in the shed or whatever stealing, and peeked inside. I saw Caramon and Miranda. I don't suppose you want me to tell you what they were doing."  
Raistlin was still definitely aching over that. His first (apparently) encounter with a crush ended in such a psychologically damaging way that Alira suddenly forgave him. She understood crushes well enough.but since she had never actually acted on those crushes, she had no experience whatsoever with heartbreak. Seeing Raistlin so vulnerable made her want to just hug him, despite his last comment.  
"Whore." Alira said simply, certain that this little comment would help. It did. He laughed.  
Then Alira reached out towards him, grabbing the belt around his waist. More specifically, she grabbed at a certain pouch. When her hand closed around it, she gave it one, firm tug and it slipped right off. Peeking inside, she smiled triumphantly, looked him straight in his shocked face and drew her arm back as far as she could. She flung the pouch of Raistlin's tea far into the woods. At first, he just stuttered.  
"You don't need it." She said simply, and he gave her a weak smile, clutching his staff the tighter.  
  
Later that night, they were readying for sleep, their bedrolls ready and them about to tuck themselves in. Raistlin, sitting next to her in front of the fire, which they intended to put out right before they slept, reached into the sleeve of his robes. He fiddled around with something there, and first Alira thought he was performing a bit of sleight of hand. But instead of rabbits, or a dove, or flowers, he pulled out a strange leather-thong thing with a bright, beautiful dagger slipped into it. It was complicated.  
Raistlin reached for her wrist, and slowly attached the strange instrument, making sure she saw every step.  
"Okay, flick your wrist like this," he demonstrated. When she did as he said, the dagger, it's beautiful razor-edges sharp as a dragon's tooth, slid into her hand, ready for a stab or slash. She laughed, albeit nervously.  
"It's beautiful! Where did you get it?" she admired it.  
"An old friend. Perhaps some day I'll tell you about him. But, it's yours now." He said, a fond smile creeping over his features.  
"Oh, no! I couldn't take this, it's probably worth a fortune!" she exclaimed, biting her tongue and getting ready to take it off.  
"No, please. Please, I want you to have it." he said awkwardly. She looked into his eyes, the strange hourglass eyes, and this time they weren't perfect mirrors. She saw in his eyes the explanation of his heart.  
Reaching out with her un-daggered hand, she took his slender fingers, the familiar burn of his skin soothing her, and gave them one, quick, acceptance squeeze. 


	12. Chapter 12: Dream Come True

Chapter 12:  
The journey to Silvanesti took less time than either of them thought. Though, they were lucky not to run into any unfortunate weather. According to the local mages and people who claimed to understand the weather, there would be storms all over, some of them worse than the one Raistlin and Alira had already encountered. But they enjoyed themselves together. Now that Miranda's painful memory had been taken care of, he seemed much more free. His cough had halted, altogether, and he was more ready with help and laughter.  
Alira realized now what women never saw in him before. He was incredibly handsome. His brother was famous amongst girls for his good looks, but Raistlin's finer boned structure and demeanor gave him a more Elven-kind of beauty than his brother's rugged, manly, chop-and-slash human looks. It was interesting.  
Raistlin, in turn, noticed her more than ever. How could he not? He has spent several days with the only woman alive who could possibly tolerate the worst of his moods! Not only that, but he was fairly certain it was her fault that his cough hadn't plagued him. On top of it all, she was very pretty. Very, very pretty.  
They finally arrived in Silvanesti, and rode for several hours before they felt compelled to stop. When they stopped, a slender Elven man greeted them almost immediately. They guessed they were in the right place when he repeated a few of the phrases that Ferian had departed to them. Grinning, they followed the young Elf. They were escorted to quarters.  
"We apologize, but we are not used to visitors. I'm afraid we have but one room. Though it is a large one, so you should be able to make use of it as two." The Elf said, giving Alira a glance of sympathy. She nearly burst out laughing. She could definitely survive in a large room with Raistlin. He, however, seemed a bit nervous. Alira didn't question him, he had a right to be nervous.  
  
It turned out he had more than a right to be nervous. This large room was very large.and it just so happened that it also included the bathing room. Meaning they would have to find a way to keep busy while the other bathed and dressed. Oddly, there wasn't a dressing curtain, so they would have to find a way to make do without one.  
Aside from that, it was a beautiful room done in silvers and blues. The bed was gigantic, with enough room for seven people to sleep side by side, plenty of room to avoid confusion or embarrassment. They decided they might as well share the bed. Besides, it was extremely comfortable, and neither wanted to give it up. The carpets were soft and thick, the furniture as fine as that in Qualinesti. Alira was enchanted; Raistlin was appreciative.  
First things first, Alira wanted a bath. Badly. But she was too embarrassed to try shooing Raistlin away. For once, she wasn't as firm as usual, and stuttered about trying to tell him she wanted to bathe.  
"Do you want the first bath?" he asked her first. She breathed a sigh of relief and accepted, with a smile.  
  
"I'll just.go outside." He said, opening the fine carved door and slipping out. In a flash, she undressed and jumped into the bath, which was already drawn, and still nice and hot. As in Qualinesti, it had a strange water system replenishing dirty water with fresh. She scrubbed the dirt and grime of travel from herself, enjoying her bath and keeping an eye on the door to be safe. Before long, she was snuggling back into her robes, warm and comfortable.peace.  
She walked to the door to find Raistlin. She couldn't see him in the immediate vicinity, so she began to walk around. Alira assumed that if Raistlin returned and didn't see her, that he would probably bathe and come looking later, or wait for her to come back. Therefore, she was perfectly justified in a little walk. She decided to go into the forest.  
Before long it hit her. This huge sense of déjà vu. She recognized immediately why she had it, and cursed herself for realizing it earlier. The trees.  
The trees were identical to the ones she saw in her dream. The area she was in was identical to the one in her dream. A feeling of dread spread through her limbs. Ever-so-slowly, she turned around, completely expecting to see the young Elf-girl step from the shadows as she had in the dream. When Raistlin came forth, she nearly threw herself at him in relief.  
"My dream! This is it!" she whispered, bounding forward and pulling near to him, seeking protection from her own mind.  
"Then we wait for her." He said calmly, gripping the Staff of Magius as usual in his fist. The smooth, dark wood of the staff was soothing to him, made him feel the power of himself.and Alira picked up on that, subconsciously, and was empowered. Her fear lessened, though it still existed.  
"Shirak." He muttered. The staff burst into brilliant light, its crystal nestled safely within the golden dragon's claw. "Dulak."  
His irritable command to end the light was obeyed, of course. The light didn't' help much, as it was mist and not true darkness that was bothering his sight. Finally, the child stepped forth. The mages huddled closer together, warmth from their bodies supporting each other.  
The sheer, plain beauty of this child was ten times more heartrending than in Alira's dream, and she could hear and feel Raistlin take in a breath of awe. She was afraid the child would steal his attention.  
"Aliralintharincalion and Raistlin Majere. I have been waiting." That enchanting voice of her hers, nearly a spell on its own, ensnared them. They were silent, awaiting her words. Raistlin knew something Alira did not, however, by seeing this child. She, like his mother Rosamun, was a seeress.  
"You two are very important. To each other, to the world, to the gods. Raistlin, you are free of Fistandantilus. You didn't remember him. I want you to remember right now." Like a flash, the memories flooded his head. He fell to his knees, barely stopped himself from hitting the ground with the staff. A grunting moan escaped him.  
"Aliralintharincalion. Your memories, too, are not full. Remember!" the strange star-eyed child whispered, and Alira whimpered in pain as she saw.  
"Now you know. Raistlin, you remember Amberyl now, too, and you know the truth of what happened. I know, and now you do. Both of you have your memories in full." Raistlin was frightened. How could she possibly have such power as to heal minds?  
"I cannot tell you all that I wish for the simple reason that you would either not be able to comprehend, or it would ruin Krynn. I may not meddle too much, for the others will find out, and then both of your lives will be forfeit.  
"Krynn depends on you both. You will fall in love. You feel it now, in your hearts. Look! You can even see it, in your own blind way. You two are in love as strong as Paladine's pure love for Mishakal, and hers for him. The magic is second in your heart, as only your soul mate is first.  
"Alira. You are Raistlin's salvation. If it weren't for you, Fistandantilus and his hold over Raistlin would only grow more strong and perverted with time, eventually leading to an unsatisfactory end for both. As you saved him, you damned him and yourself. You love him more than anything, even life. You are the Assassin. You are the Lover. You are the Child. You are the Mother. As you sin, you become a saint. You need be strong, for if you are not, it will all fail. And yet, while you are the one who need be strong, you are also the weaker.  
"Raistlin. You are the most powerful mage to ever walk Krynn. You will never have an equal. Ever. With Alira's faint help, you broke Fistandantilus as much as she did, if not more. Slowly, you will heal. Par- Salian will be forced to repair your sight. Your skin, your armor, will no longer be needed, for Alira's strength coupled with yours is all you will need. Your hair, also, will eventually be returned to you. With your change, you gained a soul. You can see already that your lungs have begun to finally heal. After this meeting, you two will be stronger with each other than ever. Raistlin, you will never have the physique of your brother. You will always be the smaller, the more delicate, yet in your own you are strong. Yours is a journey of love. A strange thing you don't yet understand. But you will. Life will continue for you as it should, the course of time altered, though, by the gods. In their divine knowledge, they have decided that your path is not the best, and so they have meddled just enough to bring you and Alira together.  
"What do you want to know?" she asked, her voice losing some of its thickening layers, retreating to a more childish sound. Her eyes lost a tiny bit of their flaring brilliance.  
The two mages were speechless. Alira was near to fainting; Raistlin was dry in the mouth. They could, both of them, fear their hearts thudding. They had no questions.  
"Ah, yes. Also, you two will marry, sooner rather than later. Together, you will fight a foe that none of the god's yet knows. They can only hope that you are the right champions they have chosen." She said, almost nonchalantly.  
"And this, Alira, is yours."  
From behind her, she pulled a staff. It was shorter than Raistlin's. It was actually about eight or nine inches shorter than Alira. It was carved of an unknown wood, a wood that was a pale, cream golden-blonde color from the tip to below the grip. The grip was simply six inches from the very top to its lowest point. The grip was nothing but a section of the staff left with the bark smooth, and on. It was pretty, in its own, crude way. It had been sanded, and had a tiny bow to it, curving almost too slightly to be noticed. It had been thickly lacquered, and was smooth as Raistlin's care-worn staff. Alira fell in love immediately.  
Her staff had its own crackling magic to it, unidentifiable, but there. "Its powers are yours to discover." The girl-child spoke softly as Alira took it in her hand, gripping the grip tightly and feeling the comfortable weight of it.  
  
That night, they didn't speak to each other. They slept in silence, contemplating their memories. 


	13. Chapter 13: Attacked

Chapter 13:  
Alira loved her staff. Something about it just captured her heart. The only problem was, she had absolutely no idea how to make it do anything. So, she contented herself with using it as a quarterstaff. Due to her assassin training, she was a master with it. Now that she had her memories, she was in more pain than ever. Apparently, she spent five years of her life (which were somehow concealed from her and her family through some sort of ingenious time-loop generated by Takhisis for some odd reason) training as a weapons-master. Alira hated the fact that she was constantly analyzing things.  
She subconsciously knew where every exit was, where every possible weapon was, and where anything that might hinder or aid her in escape or fighting was. It was annoying, because she knew that she knew this all subconsciously.  
Raistlin, however, didn't have much lost in the way of memories, save for one. About a certain woman named Amberyl. She was Irda, obviously, from her exquisite beauty. Raistlin knew, now, the story. He was certain this strange story would come back to haunt him now that he knew it. Apparently, there's this thing that happens to Irda when they meet another. When a male Irda meets the female that he is supposedly bonded to, he must get her pregnant, or they will be infatuated with each other until he finally does. It was their way of guaranteeing that their race didn't die out.  
According to this story, it happened between Raistlin and this Amberyl woman. Unfortunately for Raistlin, it didn't. What they thought was infatuation, was nothing more than a fluke. After speaking to him, they both realized that it was a false alarm. Raistlin had no child, and never even got near to having one. Just his luck, he thought.  
  
They were both very indifferent to each other. Both of them were confused about what to do. Should they just run and get married and get it all over with? Or perhaps they were meant to wait until some sign? Or maybe it would all just fall into place.  
Still, they didn't want to risk anything, so they decided to go on as usual. And wait for a sign. Alira was in denial, a bit. She didn't know much about the whole situation, but she didn't want to mess anything up for the gods or Krynn.or herself.or Raistlin.  
Meanwhile, Raistlin was confused about everything. He rarely even spoke to girls. He didn't really know any. You could probably count the number of females he spoke to in his entire life on one hand.and that's if you were missing fingers, too. Raistlin had absolutely no idea about what to do. He was certain his brother's approach would not be acceptable. Maybe it worked on barmaids, and random peasant women, but Alira was different. She was intelligent, kind, ambitious, beautiful, fun, interesting, friendly, impatient at times, understanding, and strict, helpful and perfect.  
Well, at least Raistlin wasn't in denial anymore. With that list, he realized that what the Elven seeress said was true. He glanced over at her, wondering if she had accepted it yet.  
He couldn't tell.  
He didn't know that she hadn't.  
  
They were finally on their way back to Solace, the rest of their time at Silvanesti being full of silence and lots of emotional healing. They were currently back to their old footing, with just the teeniest wedge of something between them.  
Meanwhile, Alira kept an eye out as they traveled. They were warned about a particularly nasty gang that had taken to frequenting the road they were on. Raistlin and Alira were skeptical about getting attacked. Few gangs would go against a mage, and even fewer would attack two. Mages tend to be clever, though every bunch has its bad apples. Red robes, with their neutral alliance, could be as bad as black robes in some ways. They were confident.  
They shouldn't have been.  
They were one-fourth of the way to Solace when Alira realized they were being followed. It didn't take long for them to attack. They were a large band of fifteen rag-tag creatures. Mostly, they were dwarves and humans, but with one gigantic Minotaur leading the bunch.  
Immediately, they grabbed for Alira. The mages didn't have time to react. The Minotaur had her in an instant, and yanked her from her horse by her arm and robes. He held her tight, yelling for one of his minions to gag her and tie her hands behind her. They had already caught Raistlin. But when he saw that the Minotaur had Alira, he fought as hard as he could, forcing them to knock him unconscious. Actually, they were quite enthusiastic about a reason to throw something heavy at his head.especially when he opened his mouth to curse them.  
The Minotaur grinned at Alira, his breath so foul that she nearly threw up. The gag, however, prevented such a reaction. She paled. He laughed.  
  
"We've got ourselves a pretty little wench in a red dress!" he taunted. His name, as she heard a few of the gang mutter, was Gauf.  
She knew what they meant to do. But they didn't know that she had recently had her assassin's skills awakened. Alira was careful not to fight too much, but definitely not to seem willing. Before she knew it, they got cocky. They went ahead and untied her hands, taking her pouches, and leaving the gag on. They were certain there was nothing she could do without her voice. But they didn't confiscate her staff. Alira put a look of utter fear on her face, concentrating as hard as she could on a single thought.  
  
"Lunitari's idish!" she called, begging her staff to respond for Lunitari's sake. A tear leaked from her eye in her concentration.  
Finally, her staff flew into her hands. The fools watched in awe as she spun it impressively, a simple trick meant to capture their eyes so she could cut her gag from her face with her dagger. She didn't let them know about the dagger earlier because she had planned this all along. Eventually, they realized her gag fluttered to the ground, and they cried out in astonishment. Some of them fled, others watched in awe. The Minotaur came from his tent (which he had retreated to for some reason or other) and bellowed in fury at her escaping from her bonds. Suddenly, they all sprung and attacked her.  
By then, Alira's staff had gained enough momentum to become a whirling fury of death in its own right. The hard wood rained heavy blows, stunning many of them, bruising most, and she was quick and skillful enough to change its direction so she would never be vulnerable.  
"Raistlin! Wake!" she cried, speaking the language of arcane magic to give her words more power. He groaned as he finally brought himself from his painful slumber. Seeing her in trouble, he raised a hand. Magical energy crackled wildly between his fingers as she held them off with her staff. Some of them went to attack him, but she ran to block them. She couldn't hold them off much longer, for there were many, and she wasn't strong enough to knock them unconscious.  
Finally, he released his fiery spell, killing more than half of them instantly. He sunk to the floor in exhaustion, barely awake. After seeing their smoking, burning comrades, most of them fled, leaving only the Minotaur. He moved to overpower her, and this time, she wasn't quick enough. He knocked to the ground, getting atop her and preparing to slap her. She kicked up, panicking, unable to think like an assassin. Alira screamed as loudly as she could. The Minotaur covered his ears, buying her some time. She didn't know what to do, her feverish mind unable to produce a plan. Finally, she reacted instinctively. She balled up her fist and punched him soundly in the throat. She wasn't prepared for the odd wrist- flicking movement that her wrist was forced into.  
Her dagger flew straight into his throat. He choked, squabbled, making the strangest, most disgusting sucking and gurgling sounds. Finally, Gauf died.  
Alira pulled herself out from under the heavy beast, revolted by his reeking odor. She rushed over to Raistlin's side. He was sound asleep.  
Exhausted, she, too, fell asleep, her shoulder resting against his breast, his arm cradling her. 


	14. Chapter 14: Exhaustion

Chapter 14:  
When Raistlin awoke, the first thing he saw was Alira resting against him. He could feel her heart beating beneath her breast, and an overwhelming sense of protectiveness washed over him. It didn't take long for him to realize that they were free of the their captors. But he didn't want to wake her; she looked so peaceful and beautiful.to him. In reality, she was a mess. Her hair was mussed and tangled with blood and dirt, her entire body was either bruised or weary, and her clothing was ragged and filthy.  
He lay, half-awake, half-asleep until she finally stirred. Alira woke, and slid her head upwards on his chest to look at his face. Alira finally accepted it, with that one glance. It was done.  
  
Back in Solace, they were a sight to be seen. Both of them looked terrible.ragged, and filthy. People stared at them. They were past caring. They walked up the stairs to the Inn of the Last Home, every muscle aching, every bruise complaining, and were barely able to order themselves a room with two baths.  
Alira's modesty fled in her pain. All she wanted was a soak in the bath. She eased herself into the tub, its water the perfect balance of warm and hot, and stripped off her now-soaking clothing. Raistlin threw his robes off and entered his bath.  
No words passed until the water began to get cold. They scrubbed themselves clean, completely oblivious to the person in the next tub, and grunted when they hit a particularly sore spot. Raistlin, due to lessons with Weird Meggin (a local herb-woman), was an expert at human anatomy, and he knew exactly which spots to massage to relieve his pain. A fleeting thought came to him.but he decided not to act on it. The gods know how Alira would react if he offered her a massage.  
Alira finally realized that they were sharing a room. And they were both in bathtubs. Naked. Together. Alone. In a room. She slunk down into the soapy water, modesty taking over. Alira was appalled when he rose from the tub, his back facing her. Dripping wet, he reached for a towel and began to dry off, ignoring her completely. She couldn't help but stare. Quickly, she averted her gaze, blushing terribly.  
  
It took longer than she would have liked for him to finally get dressed and when he did, she waited for him to leave so she could. He sat on the bed and watched her, his long hair still wet. She glared at him like an angry cat, a simple look that expressed how much she wanted him to go. He grinned at her evilly. She gasped, realizing his intentions.  
"You wouldn't dare!" she said.  
"I'm not leaving." He replied coolly. She felt like slapping him, but to do that she'd have to get out of the tub!  
"You're such a-! Urhh!" she cried at him. "At least hand me a towel or something!"  
He smiled wickedly, picking up her towel from the bed next to him, dangling it over the side of the bed, and gesturing for her to come get it. She stayed in the cold water.  
"Why do you think we were attacked." She asked, hoping to snare his attention away from torturing her.  
"I should think it was obvious. We were two traveling mages, likely to have something of value on us. They could use us for whatever they wanted, then kill us or what have you, and steal our stuff. They'd probably use and eat what they could, and sell what confused them." He replied calmly, still not forgetting her.  
Alira was aggravated, now. "But it didn't feel right."  
"Nonsense," Raistlin replied, "you're just trying to divert my attention."  
She grimaced at him, he replied with a cheerful smile. The water was getting frigid. He was getting more and more patient. She did not want to give the satisfaction of making her give up.  
"Eventually, the water will evaporate, and all this will just be a waste of time."  
"Elves are renowned for their patience."  
"But you don't have the Elven patience, just as you lack the Elven ears." He teased. It was warm in the room, but freezing in the water. Alira was starting to shiver.  
"Y-you are going to kill me. I'm going to get hypothermia!" she whined.  
"It's simpler than you think. All you have to do is walk over here and fetch your towel." He replied. He was half-lying on the bed, propped up by his arms, with the towel draped casually over the bed, just within his grasp.  
Alira couldn't stand it anymore. Quickly, so the air wouldn't bother her too much, she vaulted out of the tub with a violent splash of water and grabbed the towel's corner, pulling it towards herself to wrap herself up. Raistlin watched the entire thing with mild interest. He grabbed the other side of the towel and jerked it firmly, jerking a shivering Alira to him. Sliding his slender, strong arm behind her waist, he drew her near, the warmth from his body attracting her. She nuzzled up close to the warmth, not truly realizing that she was naked and he clothed. All she felt was the difference between warmth and cold.  
Suddenly, she squirmed; trying to pull away from the firm embrace she was caught in. This was horrifying. Raistlin laughed, pulling her closer, and turning his mouth to her ear.  
"Shh. Calm down. Let me warm you." He whispered, placing the lightest of kisses just below her ear. Every hair on her body stood up with electricity, she was soon covered with goose bumps. Alira shivered, and melted in his arms. He sighed. Alira eased his robes from him, realizing that he hadn't fastened them at all. Raistlin wanted this as much as she did.  
They just stayed with each other.  
Eventually, their exhaustion flowed back into them. Without realizing it, they fell asleep.  
  
When Alira woke up, she was confused. They were under the covers, but she knew nothing had happened. That was what confused her. Remembering the exertions of travel and fighting, she understood what happened. They had merely fallen asleep. She wished they hadn't. Raistlin was already awake. He had dressed and left. She was looking about the room for him when the door opened and he entered. Alira yanked the covers up to her neck, her useless modesty returning. Foolishness, she thought, and she jerked them back the way they were. He bore a tray of food and tea. She thanked him, and ate the meal in bed. He sat with her, occasionally snatching a bit of bread or potato for himself.  
"Raistlin." she said, the question unvoiced.  
"No. Not yet. But I." he left his question unfinished. He knew what she asked, but this time she wasn't sure about him.  
"What?"  
"I was wondering.Did you want to wait until marriage, you know, before."  
She grinned broadly. "Yes."  
"When do you want to get married?"  
"Is that your proposal.well, I have to admit that I always did expect something more.flamboyant. Well, I suppose it will do. We can get married whenever you like, there really isn't anyone for me to invite.unless you want to invite someone.but I am expecting to get a proper dress." She said. Instantly, the image came into her mind of her wedding dress.  
But her thoughts were banished quickly. Raistlin flickered.  
Flickered.  
What?  
His image in front of her just blinked. In his place was the strangest thing she had ever seen. It looked almost like a man.but a man with a lizard's head.and strange malformed wings. She shrieked.  
  
NOTE: yes, I know I don't own Raistlin etc. etc..but I've got my Alira. Also, I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed my story because so far I've heard only great things.and what suggestions I've received are very thoughtful, and maybe they'll someday be used? ( Thanks much for everything! I continue only because of all my faithful readers! (Oh, and don't get mad at me, that was the twist.this is why its taken so long for me to write it.the twist! Buahahahha! Sorry, but it'll take a little while for everything to be cleared.just warning you all!) 


	15. Chapter 15: Quarrel for Truth

Chapter 15:  
  
She jerked her robes on, fastening them quickly as the draconian realized his disguise was gone. He charged at Alira, snapping his jaws menacingly in a grimace. She screamed again, running for the door and flinging it open into the beast's face. The draconian made a strange grunting sound, and then followed her. Her screams aroused the people in neighboring rooms and disturbed everyone eating in the common room.  
Mass pandemonium ensued.  
People began to fight and scrabble to get out of the inn. Everyone was scrabbling, yelling, and punching wildly at anything. The draconian hollered what must have been words, but no one was listening. He tore through them, trying to get to Alira. Alira had made it out the door, with her flying head start.  
She barely made it down the stairs, after stumbling and tripping and skipping every other step or two on her way down. It was a miracle she made it down without breaking her neck. The draconian had trouble with the stairs. He jumped and landed awkwardly on the ground, his strange little wings making his fall less damaging than it should have been.  
Alira ran. She didn't think at all, she just kept moving until she was surrounded by nothing but forest. Finally, panting heavily, she realized she was alone. She couldn't hear the strange creature anymore. She fainted.  
  
When Alira finally awoke, she was more than relieved to see that there was no sign of draconian anywhere near her. She sighed, thoroughly confused, and dragged herself over to a tree. Leaning, she tried to think. But nothing could calm her roaring instincts that begged her to find the nearest cleric for safety. She needed a cleric, she sensed it.or at least to make it to another mage. She muttered a short prayer to Lunitari.  
Alira heard a strange snuffling noise, after spending a few mind- numbing moments re-living the horrors of the day. She snapped her head up, realizing she had been looking at her bare fee the whole time. A small fox, brilliant red with the most amazing green eyes, looked at her. It was odd, to see a fox so bold as to come within six feet of a human. The little figure watched her, almost intelligently, with its emerald eyes. Such amazing eyes! Alira was transfixed by the bright green color. It went wonderfully with the gorgeous, thick red pelt.  
Then she noticed the strangest thing. The little beast wore earrings! Wide, golden hoops were dangling from the ears of the fox, the gold glimmering temptingly.  
"Oh, you poor, dear thing!" she crooned, reaching out carefully, inviting the little fox nearer.  
He scampered closer, his eyes glittering, and sniffed at her fingers. Licking them, he made a strange sound not unlike purring. Alira chuckled as he nipped them, surprised that he got so close.  
"Where did you come from?" she wondered, asking the question aloud. As though understanding, the fox calmly padded up and curled up in her lap, snuggling against her. She laughed again, and started to stroke him, careful not to disturb the loops at his ears.  
As though a sudden wash of good luck followed the fox, a group of Elves happened upon the two. Alira stood up, holding the furry beast in her arms as she greeted the Elves. Clearly, they had an obvious distaste for her state, but gave her time to explain herself. It didn't take long to spill the whole story, and she was more than happy to mention that she was part-elf, even if that part was Silvanesti, and not Qualinesti like these Elves. Still, they seemed more than happy to supply her with a change of clothes (though this didn't include fresh robes) and a bit to drink.  
"Where are you headed?" she asked the leader, a young Elf by the name of Irlin, short for something Alira couldn't catch. Elven though she was, she still had a bit of trouble with the long names, even her own.  
"Solace." He replied. "But after all I told you about the creature! You're still going?" she spluttered, still cradling the fox in her arms. "I sincerely doubt that this creature is a match for Qualinesti archers. Do not be worried. If you wish, I can send an escort with you to Par-Salian." he said, kindly, but firmly. "Yes! Please! I need to get to Par-Salian at once!" she started, realizing the wisdom in such a decision. After all, who but the gods could clear up this matter better than Par-Salian? "I will send ten men, half our group, with you, then, Aliralintharincalion." He said, her voice smooth in his slightly accented speech. It was odd, to hear her name pronounced correctly and so naturally, but very interesting. She thanked him profusely, and before long found herself surrounded by ten Elves, all well dressed and armed to the teeth, on her way to see Par-Salian.  
  
The journey had been rather tedious; the Elves not very good at conversation. They were quiet types, and Alira practically itched for a good conversation. She loved to talk, but it was extremely difficult to start anything with them. They either nodded their heads or answered with a polite yes or no. She took to speaking to the fox, trying to find a name for him. It didn't take long. The little creature turned out to be quite a handful. He got into almost as much mischief as a kender, constantly getting into places he shouldn't, and sometimes growling or scratching at the Elves while they slept. He turned out to be just the cutest thing, though, with his little adventures. Alira took to calling him, simply, Mischief. He was so precious, Alira found herself in love with him at once. At night, he curled near hear, the fluffy, soft fur of his body warm against her. She loved the way his tail curled about his face, hiding his little black nose from view, but allowing his emerald eyes to peek over. But eventually they finally arrived to the tower. They didn't have much trouble getting there, though the Elves had to leave shortly after they got near. Alira didn't miss their company much. At all. When she got there, she attracted quite a few looks from the older mages. Apparently, most of the tower knew that she was traveling with Raistlin. They were amazed to see her back so soon, and alone save for a curious little fox that seemed much smarter than ordinary animals. It seemed as though Par-Salian was expecting her. He sat in a comfortable chair, his white robes just a teeny bit frayed at the hems from normal wear, with a glass of fine red Elven wine in his hand. There was another full glass on the table near, and a chair ready for a guest. "You've been expecting me." She said coldly, still clutching Mischief, who was now her only companion, in her arms. He glared at the white-robed mage. Emotion overwhelmed her now. All of the questions and rage and sorrow and everything just poured from her like a dam under too much pressure. She screamed, hollered, and cried, emptying herself until she was a void. Alira didn't realize it until she was done, that she had sunken to the floor, still holding on to a startled Mischief as though her life depended on him. Embarrassment wasn't even an option, she just felt so.so.inexplicable. Par- Salian watched the fireworks from his chair, calmly; ready to speak when she was done. "I'm very sorry. I heard all about what happened. It took quite a while, but I finally managed to find out what went wrong." He said. She looked up hopefully, the tears like glitter on her face. Mischief had a small spot on his back that was soaked with her fallen tears, but he didn't seem miffed. Alira didn't care how he knew. But she did want to know exactly what had happened to Raistlin.  
  
Paladine was angry. He rarely got angry, but this time, he was angry. Mishakal soothed her consort as best she could, though she shared his anger. It didn't take them long at all to figure out what was wrong. Takhisis, of course, found out about their meddling and interceded as quickly as possible, playing her own hand beside theirs. How she did it, they had no idea, for knowing the how would be rather like knowing her mind, and none knew her mind. Alira had not been traveling with Raistlin, but rather a draconian in disguise. An amazingly good disguise, but still a disguise. Takhisis had reached in at the last moment, and messed around with Caramon and Raistlin, holding them in whatever situation they were in so she could replace them with her minions. However, Alira's devotion was to her goddess, Lunitari. Dear Lunitari did not like that the other gods were messing around with one of her devotees, and decided to throw her own lot in. The result? Mischief. Takhisis's next plans? Paladine had no clue. But it was a definite thing what he had to do. He had to get the real Raistlin together with Alira, and do his best to get them.TOGETHER, together with help from Mishakal. And while they worked at their goal, they'd have to keep an eye on the Dark Seductress herself, which would prove to be quite a difficulty. And unknown to them, Lunitari would be acting in Alira's best interests, adding what she could to the equation in a desperate attempt to take care of her newly-emotionally-unstable worshipper. And so the gods began yet another quarrel.  
  
When Alira heard Par-Salian's explanation of the events, she nearly fainted.something she had been doing often as of late. She was stunned. Mischief did his best to comfort her with his soft chirruping noises and his scratchy-soft tongue. She blinked several times, taking it all in. "You mean.I've never met Raistlin?" "Exactly." Par-Salian said, taking a sip from his glass. "Well.am I still supposed to take him somewhere?" "Of course! Though you'll have to take Caramon, too. He just wouldn't leave Raistlin.as usual. That should have been my first clue, but I chose to ignore it." he replied. "When will I be meeting him?" Alira asked, a strange sense of excitement and anticipation welling up. She heard a horrible rasping cough behind her. It sounded as though someone was hacking up a lung, and it gurgled terribly with what could only be blood. Alira whipped her head around, and saw a mage in soft red robes, with thick white hair tumbling about his shoulders and glistening gold skin gleaming from the depths of his hood. The most amazing golden eyes shone, with black pupils in the shape of hourglasses raking over her. He leaned heavily on a staff similar to the one she had seen draconian-Raistlin hanging onto.only this Raistlin seemed to know the staff better, somehow. The staff was much more beautiful and antique looking. Alira could feel the magic emanating from it. The power of it was amazing. She drew in a quick breath, standing, still holding onto Mischief. "I'd.say.you could.consider this our.meeting." He hacked. A huge warrior, huge of girth the way a big-boned man, not a fat one, is. He was handsome, in a genial, rather thickheaded way, and dressed in armor with a huge sword hanging from his waist. "Raist?" he whimpered, reaching to aid the mage. "Leave me be, Caramon, you fool!" he rasped, his coughing finally abating. "Aliralintharincalion," Par-Salian said, actually managing a correct pronunciation, "meet Raistlin Majere and his brother, Caramon." 


	16. Chapter 16: New Beginning

So sorry everyone! I went on vacation, and forgot to mention the dates! Here's the next couple of chapters.I know some of them are rather short. Things get weird, and you might not like it, but I promise it'll all turn out for the best!  
  
Chapter 16:  
  
Conversation was impossible. Caramon wasn't capable of intelligent conversation, as Alira soon found, and Raistlin was not willing to speak at all. To her chagrin, she realized that the only one she could talk to was Mischief.  
She still hadn't gotten over the draconian. Alira was confused, and lost, and now it was more like Caramon was leading the two of them from place to place.  
He was very nice. Alira soon became fond of him, in a brotherly way. He was just so open and easy to be around. But she found out quickly that he was extremely devoted to his little brother. He randomly checked on Raistlin, never leaving him alone for longer than ten minutes. Raistlin always waved him away, or barked at him for peace from his ministrations.  
Mischief, however, got more interesting every day. The little fox refused to leave her side, much the way Caramon was with Raistlin. She spoke to him often, telling him everything that was on her mind. It was probably the only thing keeping her sane, her little confession-sessions with the small red beast. More than once, she would have sworn he could understand. But she would only convince herself that it was her imagination seeking someone to talk to. Alira didn't feel like she could trust anyone anymore.  
Alira was convinced that it was a sad thing. Her best friend, the only person she trusts, is a strange fox with earrings. She had a companionship with Caramon, but it was a forced friendship, in a way. They had to travel together, because of Par-Salian's orders, and it only made sense to be friendly to the person you travel with. The only exception was Raistlin, and it truly bothered Alira.  
He was worse than the draconian-Raist. He coughed more often, hissed and snarled every other word, and treated everyone like a servant. He was arrogant, obnoxious, rude, hateful.Alira often ran out of words to describe him. She would whisper her frustrations to Mischief, noting that he seemed to bob his head each time she spoke.  
But tonight she made no such confessions. She was tired, from the traveling, and had a full belly. She fell straight asleep, tortured by thoughts and certain that her dreams would be the usual nightmares.  
Caramon never had nightmares, and he had no idea how to respond to Alira's. When Raistlin was little, he would make shadow puppets, but they were all adults, and that was hardly appropriate. He just slept on. He didn't even wake up every time she had a nightmare, so he didn't know how bad it really was. Raistlin was the light sleeper. He woke often, but soon he learned to block her out. Mischief was the only one who didn't ignore her. He would sleep curled next to her, and when she woke he would nuzzle closer to her, seeming to assure her that all was okay.  
But tonight, it was Raistlin who had the strange dreams, and Alira who slept more soundly than usual.  
  
He saw a figure, robed in red, lying in fetal position on the floor, tossing and whimpering. It was Alira, he assumed, from her size and the color of her hair. Her back was to him, and she lay several yards away from him. Raistlin stood and watched her.  
From a corner of darkness, a cloaked woman in white stepped delicately out. She was beautiful, with dark hair and eyes, pale skin, and features that he couldn't see. But he knew she was pretty, despite the fact he couldn't see her face clearly. She wore a golden fillet across her brow, and a medallion hung about her neck.  
She bent down, kneeling by Alira's side, holding her hands above the cringing form in red. A small fox was nestled near Alira, peeking out with its unreal green eyes and staring straight at him, seeming to say something with those strange orbs of emerald.  
The white-robed woman seemed frustrated. Raistlin realized she was a healer of some sorts. Then it dawned on him that this was no healer, nor was she a cleric of a god or goddess. She was Mishakal. Mishakal herself trying to heal Alira, and obviously frustrated that it did not work. She unbent her form, straightening and turning to look at Raistlin.  
Her eyes were pity. They were regret. They were sadness. They cried out to him, even as tears slipped down her unclear face. Somehow, Alira was damaged in a way that Mishakal herself could not heal. Somehow, he was responsible. Somehow, he had to fix it.  
He awoke in a cold sweat, to find his brother kneeling over him and whispering his name.  
  
Alira lay in fetal position when he finally woke, but he did not divert his attention to her. Caramon was worried, and the oaf wouldn't stop bothering him until he did something.  
"Raist! Are you alright?" his brother panicked. Finally, in a desperate and ridiculous attempt to try and soothe his obviously stressed little brother, he reverted to his old technique.  
"Look, Raist! Bunnies!" he whispered quietly, vainly trying the shadow-puppet. Raistlin slapped his hand, hard.  
"Fool!" he snarled. "I'm awake and I'm fine. Go back to sleep!"  
Caramon's face twisted into the typical hurt look, but he obeyed, as usual. Raistlin shook his head. Foolishness, that's exactly what such dreams were. It was nothing but worthless, ridiculous foolishness. He went back to sleep.  
  
The next day, they traveled on silently. Mischief was in a pack at Alira's waist, peeking out at Raistlin and Caramon. His weight was comforting. Absentmindedly, she would pat the little fox, which would nudge her affectionately, or lick her fingers.  
"Where did you get that?" Caramon asked bluntly, trying yet again to be nice to Alira.  
"He found me." She whispered, looking down at the fuzzy red bundle fondly. She unsettled Caramon. Although Alira didn't realize it, she was as unapproachable as Raistlin was, in Caramon's eyes. But Caramon was used to such behavior, and he was fully committed to trying to get to know her better.  
The question was: how would Raistlin respond. 


	17. Chapter 17: Emotional Spill

Chapter 17:  
  
"Alira!" Caramon called. "Meat! Berries!"  
She rose from where she sat, near Raistlin and the fire, to see what Caramon had found. He was able to eat an amazing amount of food, and Alira had so far proven to be one of his favorite cooks. Alira liked the attention she got from him, when he ate her cooking. Raistlin, however, would eat a little bit, silently, and pretend neither of them existed while he retreated to his books to study.  
He was easy to find, with his armor clanking and grating, kneeling on the ground near a trap. A plump rabbit was caught, and he didn't waste time in slitting its throat while it kicked and bucked. Alira smiled at Caramon's dimly pleased grin.  
"I thought you said there were berries." She said. After traveling with him for a few days, she had slowly grown more and more social with the bigger of the two brothers, and even Mischief had come to like him. Alira knelt beside him, her lithe frame dwarfed by his largeness. In her robes, she felt secure as she examined the prize he clutched in his huge hands. Nodding her approval with pursed lips, she rose.  
"The berries are over there.see that big bush? That's it. Do you have any of that nice plant you used last time with the rabbit? Could we have a stew?" he asked excitedly, a boyish light infusing his features. Alira chuckled.  
"I think we've got enough left for a stew.those vegetables we got earlier will be perfect." she said, watching him get up, his broad shoulders a mass of corded and rippling muscle.  
So unlike Raistlin.  
The two of them walked side by side, with Mischief in Alira's belt- pouch, as usual. The rabbit dangled limply from Caramon's hand, dripping blood. Alira clucked when she realized he hadn't thought to clean it before getting up. Though every stride of his counted for two of hers, Alira made it to the camp without going breathless. She made him clean the rabbit once they made it back. In the meantime, she tried to ignore Raistlin's gaze on her as she worked at getting everything ready to start cooking.  
Before long, she had the stew cooking, enough food for seven.therefore enough to fill Caramon's belly as well as hers and Raistlin's. She hacked at a coarse loaf of bread with a dagger, trying to block out the kinds of thoughts that always brought stress on her. Alira didn't like dwelling on the fact that she was a trained assassin, the fact that she still wasn't too sure about the draconian/Raistlin thing, the fact that she now didn't have any idea about what her life was about anymore. The fact that Caramon seemed to have an unsettling interest in her. It was palpable, and she was no fool. Raistlin knew it, she could tell.  
  
As they ate, Caramon prattled on about something that Alira paid absolutely no attention to. She watched Raistlin closely. If she could get used to a draconian/Raistlin, surely there was a chance that this Raistlin could lighten up. Or, as the deep part of her snickered often, he could truly have a heart of darkness. How he got red instead of black robes often puzzled her, but she refused to well on that thought as well.  
"Caramon. Stop." Raistlin ordered harshly.  
"Who are you to order him around so?" Alira snapped irritably. Caramon blushed. Raistlin seemed surprised, the show of emotion surprising Alira. He said nothing more, but neither did Caramon.  
  
After that, things got surprisingly easy. The past tension was gone, making it a simple thing to laugh. But Alira still had this strange.thing. Like a block. It was inexplicable. She just couldn't understand it.  
Then once, Caramon was out trying to find some firewood. Alira had a feeling he wouldn't find any, but didn't bother to try to stop him, since he seemed to want to go. So, she was left to find busy-work around the camp with no one but Raistlin and Mischief to keep her company.  
"What happened?" someone whispered from behind her. She recognized Raistlin's voice.  
"What?" she said, confused by the "what" he was talking about.  
"Something hurt you." He said matter-of-factly. Painful memories flooded her senses.  
"Wise of you," she said casually, "to say something rather than someone."  
"That doesn't answer the question." He said, coughing wildly afterward.  
"It was nothing."  
"It was something if it attracted Mishakal's attention. What happened?" he asked more sternly. Alira knew now what was going on.  
"No." she said. Mischief, who was currently walking freely around rather than stuck in the pouch, rushed to her ankles, and protectively snarled at Raistlin.  
"You don't have to talk about it. But if you don't, it will never go away." He said.  
"You don't even know what it is! You aren't even human enough to understand!" she snarled, Mischief responding to her anger in kind. Her words seemed to have no affect on him.  
"Then let's experiment." He said. He sat back casually.  
"Why do you care!" she hollered.  
"I don't. But I have reason to believe that whatever it is, it involves me. And because of your problems, I am losing sleep."  
"You selfish, worthless, un-feeling." she snarled. Eventually her venting involved insulting curses, and she proved that she had quite the vocabulary when it came to insults. After a few minutes of this verbal abuse, she finally stopped, realizing that Raistlin's expression hadn't changed at all. She had the dignity not to end her ranting feebly.  
Raistlin was truly bothering her now. He set her all on edge. She had no idea what to expect from him. It dawned on her that she was afraid of him, and she hated him for that as well as everything else.  
By now, Alira was insane.in a way. She blamed all of her pain on Raistlin, for some psychological reason that was not yet explainable using words. She knew, on a subconscious level, that she was being ridiculous. But she could do nothing about it but try and comprehend something beyond her.  
"Caramon will be back any minute now. I suggest you get it over with quickly, and sooner, rather than later." He said, coolly as ever, watching her as though he expected her to be a weakling and spill all.  
She did. 


	18. Chapter 18: Injury and a Spark

Chapter 18:  
  
Raistlin didn't truly care. He didn't understand half of what she said, but he caught the gist of it. And he didn't like it. But, as he predicted, Caramon arrived a few minutes after her tell-all session, ignorant of what had just passed. However, Caramon was just barely intuitive enough to tell that something was very different. That night, as he bed down near his brother, he chanced something he had never tried before. A certain conversation that he had normally avoided at all costs with his brother.  
"Raist." he whispered, too loudly.  
"Yes, Caramon." He replied wearily. Alira slept quietly, lost in enigmatic dreams.  
"Well.when I was gone.you know. Earlier today." he started, stumbling over his words in a desperate attempt to be as eloquent as his brother.  
"Caramon, if you are attempting to find euphemisms to make this easier on yourself, you know already that you've failed. Just say it."  
Caramon did as he was told, managing to bluntly get everything "off his chest". He couldn't see his brother in the night, from where he lay, and had no idea how his brother reacted to his idea.  
"Caramon, you oaf." He whispered. Even Caramon could hear the tiny bit of pain in his brother's voice, which was usually so well concealed.  
"Your.first?" Caramon asked incredulously. Usually he didn't prod such matters, and so he had absolutely no idea about Raistlin.  
"No, you fool!"  
"But.second?"  
"Silence! Sleep, Caramon." He snarled, the tiniest bit of truth seeping through his tone.  
"Never?!" Caramon exclaimed, way too loud for comfort.  
Raistlin didn't respond.  
Nor did he when Caramon prodded again.  
Caramon slept.  
  
Alira was walking when she stopped paying attention to where she was walking. Although Mischief tried to warn her, she still stepped into the trap, and fell hard. It was the kind of trap set for medium-sized animals. Alira fell straight through, and hurt her leg. Alira screwed her face up in pain as Mischief whimpered and nipped at her. Caramon wasted no time getting to her, while Raistlin watched from the shadows of his hood.  
She found herself hoisted into the air by the large warrior, and being carried into the trees. Raistlin followed silently, while Mischief made a nuisance of himself with his constant sounds of distress and his darting between Caramon's legs. Setting her down, he examined the wound, poking it gently with a huge finger. He didn't know his own strength, and got her a bit too hard, she bit her lip and drew a hissing breath.  
"I'll take care of it, you can only make it worse." Raistlin said, waving Caramon off. Obediently, he backed away and watched as Raistlin's deft fingers probed the injury, gauging. Alira flinched and bit her lip when she felt him touch her. His skin burned like flame.  
"Broken. Caramon, go get me a straight stick about this long." Raistlin gestured, sending Caramon off. Caramon, not wanting to waste time, drew his sword and used it to hack a piece of a fallen tree to the size Raistlin had demanded. Raistlin snorted.  
"Fool." He muttered, taking the wood and setting it against her leg, judging.  
Raistlin was always well-prepared, and he managed to find a long roll of cloth in his robes.  
"Hold still. This will be extremely painful." Raistlin ordered Alira, obviously used to being instantly obeyed. She braced herself, knowing exactly what he meant to do.  
But he didn't do it, instead, he gave Caramon a swift, knowing look. Before Alira could protest, Caramon gripped her leg firmly and pulled. She screamed, and the forest echoed with the sound.  
Caramon winced, apologizing with a look. Alira smiled at him, though her smile faltered. Raistlin stepped back in, and quickly began setting her leg into a tight splint. This time, when she pulled away from Raistlin's touch, he ignored it with a grim, silent pull of his lips.  
"You won't be able to walk well. We'll get you a horse as quickly as possible. In the meantime, you will have to make do."  
Alira pulled herself up, ignoring Caramon's offered hand, and experimented with hobbling around. Each step hurt, and it put her in a foul mood. Mischief whined and looked up at her. Without a notice, Raistlin swept the fox up off the ground and dumped him swiftly in Alira's arms. Mischief didn't have time to bite at Raistlin, which he obviously wanted to do. Alira clutched him tightly, glaring at Raistlin.  
"Thank you." She said stiffly, hobbling wretchedly a few steps before falling. Caramon laughed, then stopped suddenly. Tears sparked in Alira's eyes, and Mischief yelped and licked her face frantically. When a hand reached down to grip her arm, she flung her hand upwards and slapped the unwary helper.Raistlin.  
But she missed, and only managed to hurt her leg more, somehow. Raistlin caught her hand and helped to haul her to her legs.  
"Caramon, you fool! Get over here and help!" he snapped, but by the time Caramon rushed over, Alira was already on her unstable legs.  
Mischief grunted a bit unhappily, and Alira turned her attention to the little fox, realizing that he wanted to be picked up. Caramon had a vacant expression on his face, then grunted, scratched his chest, and reassumed his duties about camp.  
Alira made several poor attempts to walk, yet again. Frustration was the immediate reaction, followed by a very unsettling feeling of helplessness. She gave an exasperated cry as she felt herself falling forward again, but caught herself this time.  
Caramon and Raistlin were both staring at her now, expectantly. She could feel a red blush, this time a result of hot anger mingling with embarrassment, spread from her neck up.  
Holding herself as straight and stiffly as she could, she dried a dignified stumble yet again, refusing to give up with them watching her with such amusement. Tears sparked in her eyes when she nearly fell again. Alira fiercely forbade crying to herself.  
Caramon was confused by her stubborn refusal of help. It was reminiscent of Raistlin, but Alira wasn't like Raistlin. It baffled him why she behaved a little like him at this moment.  
Raistlin, however, was sadistically amused by her efforts.  
Alira was ready to smack both of them.  
Finally, Raistlin sighed and beckoned to Caramon, whispering something in his ear. Caramon nodded vigorously and disappeared between the trees, obviously going to get something. Alira watched Raistlin suspiciously, and he regarded her calmly. When Caramon returned, he held a relatively straight tree branch that had its leaves and little branches cut off clumsily. Alira, strangely, felt both glad and angry at him for taking such a liberty. No, not Caramon, Raistlin. It was Raistlin's idea. Caramon, as usual, just did his "duty".  
However, common sense prevailed, and Alira accepted the act of kindness with a hesitant smile. The rough staff was a huge improvement on Alira's first few attempts, and before long she could walk fairly well with the aid of the new tool.  
But she could have sworn that Raistlin had a ghost of a smile barely shadowing the corners of his lips that night.  
  
p Authoress Note:  
I want to thank everyone here for being SO outrageously supportive and wonderfully fanatic about the fic. I'm about as proud of you guys for your support and great maturity as I am of my fiction, which has already taken a life of its own, as all good little children will do.  
I promise you guys, I will not just leave this fiction. I will keep it until it's work is done, and I just really wanted to thank all of you guys for reading this.and those who like it get a huge hug! (sorry if any of you guys are actually guys.and I accidentally call you a girl.I'm super bad w/ genders on the internet)  
I'd like to thank Pen for a certain sparkle of inspiration that has turned into a bundle of mischievous genius.  
IceBlade for her lovely and ego-supportive reviews that always bring a grin to my face. Don't worry about being at a lack for words, for that lack will someday inspire your creativity! Aaaand, I'm sorry, no yaoi here.though there may be a special little surprise with Raist and Caramon and Alira.  
Spiritz for her boosting comments and timely reviews that always seem to appear right during a time when I have a bit of a self-esteem drop.  
Ironi Numair for your very first review (and all the ones after, too, of course!) that complimented one of my favorite "children".  
UndeadBallerina for her lovely little comments.don't worry, there will be more tension to come!  
Shannon Holmes, for falling in love in the beginning, and sticking around. Love and Peace, and a Blessing right back to you.  
Raistlin the Black, I hope you're still out there.but thanks for that one review!  
Alexia S. Ludwit.yes, I know they travel abnormally quickly.its all a part of the plot.buahahahahahahahaha.and I put it in there because I hate it when traveling takes forever.ah, well. Thank you so very much for your constructive criticism and comments.  
Anubis04, thanks for your noticing the spacing, I rarely read my work after I post it, so I didn't know.I'm afraid I don't know how to stop it.I'm going to experiment.please notify me if it works! Thanks!  
Laurika, thanks for taking time to review.don't worry, I'll keep on writing, though I have to admit I've slowed down considerably!  
Mendy, here it is! LOL, thanks for reading!  
And finally, Asrimal, for taking the time to read and give his opinion.  
  
I just really wanted to make sure you all knew how much I appreciate that you take your time to read this, rather than going out and reading some of the really good stuff by actually PUBLISHED authors, LOL. Big hugs all around, keep reading, and have fun! 


	19. Chapter 19: nothing and happened

Chapter 19:  
  
Alira smelled it before any other clue came to her. It was only when she saw the clouds that a short invective burst free, and she nearly fell for the tenth time that day.  
"What is it?" Caramon asked, not moving to help her up. He still had a bruise from the last time he tried to help her.Mischief gave it to him. He turned to see what she had seen. The same invective, with a bit more force behind it, came loose from his mouth.  
Raistlin had the control not to curse, but he was definitely not happy. The clouds behind them were nearly black. Thick, heavy, dark clouds that sizzled and boomed with white-blue lightning and earth-shaking thunder.  
A storm was coming.  
A bad storm.  
"What should we do, Raist?" Caramon looked to his younger brother, as usual, for the answer. But Alira was the one to reply.  
"I saw a place we can stay.its quite a ways back.we'd be riding into the storm. But I think that it'd be better if we rode in and got shelter than tried to race it to the nearest place. I'm not that familiar with this area, and an abandoned cabin looks nicer than a dank cave in my opinion." She said, already hobbling back the way they came. Caramon, who always hating having to regress rather than progress on journeys, groaned and followed, clanking gently in his armor. Raistlin and Mischief followed.  
Oddly, Mischief had seemed nicer to Raistlin than Caramon. He was more likely to suffer Raistlin's presence than Caramon's, and made it clear that he would not suffer either's touch. The strange little fox, though, remained with Alira at all times, even when she left to bathe.  
But now, he trotted contently around the feet of the humans, until Alira scooped him up. When she got nervous, or suspicious of something bad, she tended to gravitate towards him.  
  
The cabin was nothing special. It was a one-room affair with a fireplace too damp for fire, a creaky bed that was more of a moldy pallet and moth-eaten blanket, and a motley collection of chairs bundled in the corner. But, as they soon found, the roof was in superb shape. No leaks made the whole thing worth it. The three had blankets with them, of course, so the cold wasn't so bad. But the fireplace was worthless, so they had to go with a cold meal. By the time night finally began to approach (which was hard to discern, as the sky had promptly turned black as pitch when the rain began), it slowly got colder and colder inside the little wooden room.  
  
"Well.at least it's not stone!" Alira said cheerfully. She had gotten more cheerful, despite her bad leg, these few hours. Caramon laughed, and Raistlin proceeded to look dour, as usual. Mischief offered extra warmth to Alira's sore leg.  
The rain sounded horrible. There was only one small window, but it was difficult to watch the rain falling, so they had no idea what it actually looked like. From the sound of the poundings, it was pouring in great sheets. The thunder was worse. It literally shook the cabin with such ferocity, that Alira could have sworn that it had actually caused the cabin to jump a few times.  
And so Caramon decided to pass the time telling stories. Just random little things that came to mind. Pretty soon, Raistlin pitched in at odd moments, correcting or adding bits that his brother missed. Alira soon added her own short tales. It was very dark inside, and they could barely see each other. Fed up, and fairly certain that in this rain, the fire could not possibly get out of hand, Alira lighted a few old candles she found under the moth-eaten blanket. She didn't bother to wonder how they had gotten there, as she wasn't in the mood for thinking.  
In the dim light, she could see the metallic glow of Raistlin's skin, and the burning of his eyes. Caramon's armor glistened, and Mischief's eyes twinkled with his name.  
With this sort of atmosphere, frightening tales tend to spin. Some story about ghosts and knights and mages, as usual, was spouting forth from Caramon's mind and mouth. Alira didn't pay much attention anymore, rather entranced by Raistlin. He seemed lost in thought, staring at the walls. Alira examined him.  
Finally, Caramon's tale came to an end, and the three decided it was time to at least lie down for a while. Alira took the corner furthest from the door, Raistlin tried to make himself comfortable at the opposite corner, and Caramon slept in front of the fireplace.which rather amused Alira. It seemed, at times, that Caramon was almost like Raistlin's dog.and now that he slept before the fireplace, as dogs are wont to do on cold nights, it just seemed ironic.  
Alira had nearly drifted off into sleep when Caramon came to her. Mischief had already fallen asleep, and was snoring extremely lightly in that adorable way that only a small and very furry animal can pull off.  
"Alira!" he whispered. Alira could feel impended awkwardness, and it definitely wasn't the storm.  
"Yes?" she replied, sitting up.  
When Caramon was assured that she was awake, and now that she was in a more appropriate position, he leaned forward and kissed her.  
Her eyes widened, and she, naturally, resisted. By now, things were extremely uncomfortable. By Caramon's current position, which he had shifted to while she was.pre-occupied.she now knew what he was doing. She tried to scuttle backwards, underneath him, but only managed a strange wiggle. What was he thinking? With her bad leg.and without asking or at least hinting to her first.  
"STOP!" she yell-whispered hoarsely. He pulled up, confusion etched on his features.  
"What?"  
"This!" she tried not to be loud. If Raistlin saw this.  
"Perhaps, my brother, you should wait to conduct your.activities.in a more private place and manner?" a chilled voice crept from the shadows, carried by the nonexistent wind.  
Alira burned with a blush that wasn't entirely visible in the dark. She had a feeling Caramon was blushing too. Raistlin stood next to them.  
"I was completely unaware of this!" Alira called firstly, overly loud.  
"I-I-I though she'd." Caramon started, but he could feel Alira's gaze.and it definitely wasn't one of fond acceptance.  
"I'm sure." Raistlin said coldly. Alira, rather uncomfortable with Caramon above her in that position, decided to remove him in the only way a small woman can remove a very large and much more powerful man.  
With a thump and a grunt of acute pain, Caramon rolled off, clutching his private area and curling up. The storm still raged outside.  
  
The next day it still rained, and they did not want to risk walking out.especially Caramon, since it was a known fact that metal attracts lightning.  
A strange sense of awkward truths untold was practically imbued in the wood of the cabin by now, and Mischief seemed puzzled. It was a known fact that the fox tended to sleep like a stone.not waking until Alira woke him.and even then sometimes he stayed asleep.  
With nothing better to do, the mages studied. Caramon took Raistlin into a corner and explained everything, putting special emphasis on the words "nothing" and "happened".and the words "between" and "us". Alira didn't bother saying anything. She constantly raged to herself that she didn't care what Raistlin thought anyway.Caramon was attractive, and she could do whatever she wanted anyway! There was absolutely no reason to feel ashamed or to try and clear anything with Raistlin.  
So why did she feel as though there was? 


	20. Chapter 20: Cracking Dross

Again, big thanks to all my faithful readers and their wonderful reviews. I look forward to them! Also, I know I don't own dragonlance.etc. etc..but I do own Alira so there!  
  
Chapter 20:  
  
Alira awoke that morning with a crick in her neck and a rather vague and annoying memory of something that happened that night. The memories flooded back, suddenly, when she sat up. At first, she couldn't believe it.it had to have been a bad dream.  
Then Caramon, ever the master of subtlety, made his appearance. "Umm, Alira?"  
Mischief growled low in his throat, having awoken when Alira sat up. He snapped at Caramon. Flinching, the large man backed up a step.  
"What." She said flatly.  
"Raistlin."  
"What!" she called, getting annoyed and angry.  
"He's gone."  
  
The search did not help Alira's mood. It was raining outside. Not as badly as before, but still badly. She clutched her cloak around her tightly, Mischief tucked safely in a pouch near her chest, keeping her warm. She made certain he was dry, at the least.  
Alira tramped through the woods, looking for signs that Raistlin had passed through. Either he was very good at hiding his tracks, or the rain had taken care of it for him. She heard Caramon call. He had gone the other direction. She breathed a sigh, hoping that he had found the slight mage. Alira had only been outside for a few minutes, but she was already cranky.  
She ran lightly, painfully aware of her leg, but desperate to get everything over with.  
What she saw scared the living daylights out of her. Caramon stood over a crumpled form. She breathed a curse. Of course, it had to be Raistlin.who else could it be?  
Caramon whimpered as Alira came near and dropped to a crouch to check out the damage. He was still alive, though he shivered as though in the clutches of death. Again, Alira cursed.  
"Well! Get him off the ground! Don't want him to just wallow there in the mud." she said. She watched as Caramon heaved his little brother up onto his shoulder, and walked as though carrying a sack of potatoes back to the little shack in which they took up residence.  
Finally back, Alira built a fire up, putting the damp mage near enough that he could get some of the warmth. Caramon looked guilty as sin, and Alira snapped at him, which made him look like a kicked dog instead.  
After a few hours, and a trip that Caramon took to get meat, Alira had a warm broth of rabbit in a both for Raistlin. She prayed he wouldn't take sick, knowing that with his health, he likely would. She propped him up on her thigh, tipping his head back a little bit. His eyes were closed, but he still shivered. She assumed he was sleeping. Taking a rough spoon, she ladled some broth out and tested it for warmth. It was hot, but it wouldn't scald.  
Alira had a wicked thought. She knew it wouldn't be nice, but she didn't quite care. Perhaps it was this momentary abandon that caused her to slap Raistlin gently on the cheek once, wait until his eyelids fluttered, to pour the entire spoonful into his mouth and tilt him up so it could trickle down his throat.  
He flew upwards, coughing down the broth. Finally taking a breath, he turned on her. Alira still sat calmly on the floor, as though nothing had happened. She expected his reaction. He hissed, coughing between words, sentences that she ignored. Halfway through, she affected a dreamy not- quite-there smile, a small smile, a smile of peace.  
Finally, he wound down, heaving in breaths that he had missed during his rant. She didn't' say a word. He began to walk past her, but she grabbed his hand, and gently drew him down. "Have the rest." She ordered, pressing the bowl into his hand, not letting go of her iron-grip of his wrist until he accepted it. Her eyes were as hard as her fingers. Her fingers.burned.on his wrist. Then, she drew him further down until he sat. "Eat."  
"I don't want --" he began to defend himself, but the look in her eyes was enough to even intimidate him into obeying. He wondered who she was.she certainly wasn't the woman they had met so many days ago. She had changed. It almost frightened him. He was the one who should be cold. He was the one who would be worshiped for his power and his self. Raistlin did not like the fact that he had submitted to her will.  
It was a crack in the dross that was his armor.  
  
Another note: so sorry, I wrote most of this while reading "White Oleander" and I think it may have had an effect (bad.effect.cough.gasp.choke) on my own writing. So I apologize if this ain't too good.thanks for reading! 


	21. Chapter 21: Choosing Hatred

Again, I want to thank everyone for taking their time to read and review! IceBlade.please don't start worshiping me for I would hate to have Takhisis knocking on my door again.last time it was quite a mess.but that may be material for a brand new and completely crazy and bad fanfic.okay, I'm in a weird mood as I write this chapter. But seriously: THANKS.  
OKAY! Fine, I don't own Dragonlance, etc. etc.but Alira's mine and Mischief is someone else's.so HANDS OFF!  
  
Chapter 21:  
  
The rain didn't stop. It was nearly driving all three of them mad. Alira had deeply disturbed Raistlin with the broth-stunt. He sat, currently, in a corner, desperately trying to keep his mind on his studies. Caramon, however, was feeling absolutely miserable about the ordeal two nights ago. He still didn't understand how his - advances-didn't work. Meanwhile, Alira sat with Mischief, completely oblivious to the two tormented men, and completely engrossed in her own world.  
Caramon finally couldn't take it. Silence, complete lack of laughter or speech. It was aggravating. He scuttled over to where Raistlin agonized over a spell, and sat next to him, rather awkward.  
With the two of them sitting next to each other, you could almost see a vague resemblance between the twins. Normally, the differences would blind any person to their similarities. While they had virtually the same features, Caramon's face was more prone to breaking out in a face-splitting grin. Raistlin was better suited for a vicious snarl or a perturbing stare. Obviously, Caramon was the big one, the one who managed to charm everyone. You could see it even in that moment, that single moment when both of them sat next to each other. You could see the years of complete mental distortion and emotional insecurity that wracked Raistlin's frame. You could see his troubles, you could tell from a glance those many things that made him the cynical, bitter, aggravating young man he was. Likewise, all of the things that made Caramon himself.all of the laughter, love, and generosity he possessed. Of course, the fact that Caramon wore his heart on his sleeve helped the effect.but it was just so palpable. Alira simply had to glance up, the strangest electrical feeling of.it.  
But she glanced back down, toying with Mischief's ears and tail, making the little fox growl in play. He snarled and yapped at her, and she grinned as she gently avoided the golden hoops that she had never dared to take from his ears.  
  
The brothers ignored Alira. Caramon made a wild grasp at conversation, "Raistlin?"  
His voice, surprisingly, was small. Raistlin looked up, irritated. "What do you want now!"  
As usual, he snapped. Caramon winced.  
"Remember.that one night. Not the other night! The, um, one.when I asked you if you had.well.you know what I mean.if you." he floundered, having absolutely no idea how to communicate with his brother. He made a few more stuttering attempts.  
"I know what you mean." Raistlin finally said, stepping in and saving a tiny portion of what his brother could call "dignity".  
"Well.you didn't really answer. Have.you?" he asked, turning a bit ruddier than normal. He could hear Raistlin literally gritting his teeth, a nerve-wracking sound. He almost wanted to reach out and clamp his brother's jaws shut to stop the noise.  
"No."  
Caramon's reaction was instant. He barely suppressed a titter, and did a strange gasp-sigh. "You haven't ever?!"  
"What about 'no' do you not understand? I thought even a fool like you knew what that word meant." he whispered, his voice taking on its deadly, silky tone. Caramon laughed outright.  
"Seriously?"  
Raistlin glanced over at Alira, making sure she wasn't listening. Lowering his voice until he was barely audible, he spoke, "I have never had sexual relations."  
Caramon bellowed in laughter. Alira's head snapped up. "What?"  
Raistlin's eyes were daggers on Caramon, and he stopped laughing suddenly. Instead, he developed a very loud case of the hiccups.  
  
Finally, the rain was light enough that they could travel. It was muddy, and miserable, and Mischief at first didn't even want to leave the little shack. But, of course, he followed Alira.  
She had the strangest feeling that something had happened. But she couldn't put her finger on it. Finally, she found herself walking next to Caramon, in an attempt to find out what was wrong. Alira thought it was a bit ridiculous, but she was incurably interested.  
"What were you and Raistlin talking about?" she asked, knowing that subtlety was wasted on him. Caramon grinned like a town gossip with the best gossip ever tucked away.  
"Ah! I know you know something! Tell me." She demanded, stroking Mischief absently as he nuzzled nearer to her through the pouch she carried him in.  
"Its really not something I should tell you.what with you being a girl and all." he said. Alira couldn't believe it. Caramon was as bad as any gossip! Maybe worse.most of them just hawked it right up.  
"Glad you noticed. Now, you know you want to tell me or you wouldn't be wheedling this way! I'm not going to beg you."  
He burst like an overfull dam. "Well.it's about Raistlin."  
The large man chuckled, a preposterous noise coming from such a huge person.  
"And?"  
"He's still.well, lets just put it this way: he's pure as when he was born!" he whispered conspiratorially. Raistlin ignored them. Alira's mouth dropped.  
"You mean.?"  
"Yes!"  
"What's so strange about that?" she asked.  
"Do you know how old he is?"  
"He's about my age." she replied.  
"Wait! You, too?!" he replied, aghast.  
"Well."  
Caramon was silent until they reached a small cave. There was no way they were going to risk getting caught with no where to stay the night while the rain still poured. They decided to stop early and just wait until morning to travel onwards. It didn't take much time to get a fire started, and the small beds set up.  
Alira felt like smacking Caramon. But first, herself. Why hadn't she covered for herself? It was completely unlike her to leave herself like that.  
  
Raistlin was feeling angst-y. He knew his brother well, and had no doubt that he had told Alira. At the moment, Raistlin contented himself with sitting just so the fire could illuminate his metallic skin and set his eyes dancing with flame. He wanted the effect. Even though by now his brother was used to it, and Alira seemed too pre-occupied with some sort of angst of her own that, at random moments, disappeared and reappeared.  
She bothered him. Most people didn't. But she did. Raistlin hated it, hated her. He hated the whole ordeal. The fact that she bothered him, the fact that she breathed. He hated her more than he could think about. That was it.  
That was the answer to his problem. He knew exactly how to feel about Alira:  
Hate her.  
  
Mishakal was on her knees, with her husband by her side. The two of them watched intently the beings below them, able to see through them as easily as they could see their exterior. Tears, again, ran down the goddess's cheek, and Paladine wiped them away with a tender hand.  
"It will work, love, don't worry. We've planted the seeds, now we watch them grow.in the end, it will work." he murmured, still gazing down as he enfolded his love in his arms. 


	22. Chapter 22: Lunitari's Choice

NOTE! So sorry it's taken so long. Majorly expensive computer problems, and therefore this fanfic has been (sob!) quit for a short period of time. HOWEVER, Tess Oakley is BACK and ready to GO! ENJOY, my loyal readers, ENJOY!  
  
Chapter 22:  
  
"That's it! We must be lost!" Caramon groaned, on what seemed like the first sunny day in centuries. He flopped to the ground, bent double, panting with the heat of the day. Alira set her pack down; obviously, this was going to be their next rest stop. Raistlin, hunched forever in his robes, quietly brought himself to a sitting position on a local stump.  
"How can we be lost? I thought you knew the area!" he accused Alira, pointing a finger at her. She arched an eyebrow in response.  
"I do know the area. But this.this isn't it!" she yelled back, finally voicing the tiny, subconscious naggings that had been with her for days.  
"What!" Caramon yelled.  
"It is as she said, brother. This is not the area. Something is at work here." Raistlin whispered from the shadows he somehow emanated even at noon on a cloudless day.  
"I hate it when you say someTHING. What do you mean something." Caramon snapped, trapped within his typical armor.  
"What else can put us all in an area we are unfamiliar with without us realizing it? A god.or a goddess.put two and two together, brother, and tell me who you think is responsible." He hissed. Caramon looked stunned, and his jaw suddenly when slack. The answer popped in her head.  
"Takhisis." She said immediately.  
"I dunno." Caramon said at the exact same time. Raistlin snorted.  
"Takhisis, brother. Takhisis."  
  
They didn't move from their "rest point", preferring to make a fire and sulk. All of that walking.all of that food.all of that energy and time wasted! It wore hard on each of them, and none of them were exactly in the mood for talking, though one question pounded at their minds. Finally, it took a particularly hard nip from Mischief to force Alira to speak.  
"What do we do now? We can't just stay in one spot, she's sure to find us!"  
"She'll find us no matter what we do! I'm surprised she hasn't come for us yet! She's probably making us starve.or something." Caramon moaned, thinking about starvation, the one thing that could cow him.  
Then it clicked in Raistlin's mind. Neutral as always, he spoke again.  
"It cannot be Takhisis. If it is, she wants something from us.all of us, else she would have simply taken who she wanted. There is something all of us need to do in order to solve this." He said, voice like silk in the dark.  
"What do you propose we do?" Alira asked him calmly, looking at him straight.  
"If I knew, I would have said. I must be allowed time to think, leave me be!" he said dramatically, retreating into himself. Alira blew out an annoyed sigh and stroked Mischief.  
"At least you seem sane." she said to the fox, chuckling at the irony of her statement.  
Caramon snored as Raistlin pondered. Alira was irritated by the loud, snorting sounds coming from Caramon's direction. If it weren't for his snoring, she would have been asleep by then. She poked the fire, idle.  
"Why aren't you asleep?" Raistlin whispered. Alira almost didn't catch his question, lost as she was in her own thoughts.  
"Snoring." She replied. Mischief was a bundle of warmth at her feet.  
"You need your rest."  
"What do you care?" she shot back, bitterly, without thinking.  
"You need your rest." He repeated. Alira cursed him, taking care to pitch her voice just loud enough to reach his ears. A sardonic smile touched his lips, which were just visible in the firelight. Alira's heart fluttered with remembered memories of that smile broadening and softening.but those memories warped, and soon it was the wicked, lizard- like face of a draconian leering at her. She shivered.  
"Have you dreamed lately?"  
"What do you care?" she repeated.  
"Does the draconian still haunt your dreams?" he hissed, wounding her. She turned her face from him.  
Unknowingly, she responded in a whisper, "Yes."  
  
Raistlin felt it. He had felt it before, and recognized it. Lunitari was there. It felt rather like a child being caught by his mother while persecuting his little sibling. Raistlin sucked a breath in, surprised at his goddess's sudden attitude change toward him. He had been one of her favorites, yet now her anger was palpable. Silently, he questioned her. Swiftly, she revealed all to him. Suddenly understanding, his eyes widened.  
"Why do you tell me this now? Why not before? Why do you tell me all?" he raged suddenly. Her answer was surprising.  
  
Alira felt tears spring to her eyes like biting needles. Her jaw quivered, though she tried to stay it with her tongue. Another shiver racked her body. She felt an increase in the heat of the flames, yet saw no visible change. She waited a long time before the heat went down. Alira, her mind consumed by other worries, ignored the temperature change. But she couldn't ignore the sudden attitude change.  
"Alira?" Raistlin's voice was hard as ever, yet this time did not carry the poison of its last words. She remained silent.  
Raistlin hacked, sounding more like he was choking than he was coughing. "I.am.sorry." he managed. Immediately, a red flag went up in Alira's mind. Raistlin would never have said that.not of his own volition.  
Scrambling for Caramon, she yanked a dagger free of its sheath near him, not surprised at his silence. Alira held it poised in front of her, ready to strike. The look on Raistlin's face was one of confusion. Then she attacked.  
Vaulting upwards, she sprang upon him and tackled him to the ground. Raistlin made no move to offend himself, and she easily pinned him to the ground, the dagger at his throat.  
"Move, and I kill you!" she spat. Raistlin looked disgusted, which threw Alira off.  
"What do you think you are doing? Release me!" he said, promptly breaking off into a coughing fit. Naturally, he was having difficulty breathing with the part-elf above him, pinning him to the ground.  
"What does Takhisis want!" she asked, pushing him against the ground harder.  
In a display of strength Alira did not think Raistlin possessed, she found herself flipped on her back, with the blade reversed and Raistlin's glimmering face above hers. She opened her mouth to protest, just as he brought his down to silence her.  
The kiss was long, and deep, and completely surprising.  
"You're not a draconian." she whispered in wonder just as they surfaced for air. 


	23. Chapter 23: The Healed

Chapter 23:  
  
That night, Alira slept fitfully. She tossed and turned; eventually tangling herself in her bedding to the point that she awoke. Her breathing was harsh, and the sweat that cooled on her skin left her shivering. The warm bundle near her belly was clearly Mischief, his small form deep in sleep.  
Alira carefully untangled herself from fox and blanket. She blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the light of the moons, and she quickly searched for Caramon and Raistlin. Caramon's familiar form was on the ground where she had seen him bed down the night before. Raistlin, however, was not where he was last night. The two brothers tended to sleep further from Alira...close enough that if she needed help they could aid her, but far enough to avoid any gender issues. But Raistlin was nowhere within her line of sight, and his blanket was on the ground in a rumpled heap.  
Her curiosity got the best of her. Even after the surprise of last night...that kiss that still lingered and burned on her lips...she couldn't fight the desire to see where he had gone. Alira was so very confused, but she that at the very least, she had a responsibility.  
  
Carefully, she made her way through the forest, surprised that Mischief stayed where he slept. She could see, ahead of her, a dark spot shaped rather like a man. Schooling her breathing, she drew Caramon's knife, which she had spirited from his sleeping shape. She told herself she might need it, just in case.  
The man ahead of her was wearing robes like a mage would, and Alira was fairly certain it was Raistlin. But she was not going to take any chances, and she crept up quietly as any of her Elven kindred could. Slowly, she drew in a deep breath, carefully holding it. She slipped around in front of the man, noting that he stood perfectly still, his head tipped upward to the moons. She saw the glimmer of gold-tinged skin and slowly released her breath. It was Raistlin, for no other mage on Krynn had that golden skin. She lowered the knife, painfully aware that she had donned robes made of a much thinner material than usual...as the night was warm. She slipped it into the cord that served as a belt, and straightened. Alira was careful to move slowly, as she didn't want to startle Raistlin. As she stepped forward, he lowered his head...his queer eyes reaching hers. Alira couldn't read those eyes, but she could see a calm in his demeanor.  
"Alira." He said, her name music on his tongue. That mouth, so used to the arcane words of magic, said her name sweetly as any sleep-spell. Alira nodded, acknowledging him, as she swallowed. Raistlin reached out to her, asking for her hand. As though caught in a spell, she extended her hand to him, allowing him to take hold of it. The familiar heat of his skin was soothing, and she followed gladly as he drew her near to him. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her, just holding her. Holding her. The world was gone as he held her, gently, and strong. She felt tears roll down her cheeks as she placed her head to his breast. His heart beat strongly, slowly. Quietly, she sobbed as he comforted her, stroking her hair with one hand. He murmured some prayer to Lunitari, begging the Lady of the Red Moon to heal Alira of her pain.  
Alira did not know how long they stood there, nor did she ever know when he put her back where she slept, and tucked her in.  
But her dreams were sweet that night.  
  
When the morning finally arrived, Caramon woke Alira. Surprisingly, Alira felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders as they prepared to continue. Raistlin acted as he always did...while Caramon chatted with Alira. Alira was telling Caramon recipes, and giving him instructions, though she knew he would probably misremember them. She promised to teach him to cook properly. Raistlin would steal glimpses at her and Caramon from time to time, watching as Caramon made her laugh. The familiar pangs of jealousy tore through him. No matter what he did, it would always be Caramon who incited that beautiful laughter from her...it was Caramon with the ability to make her smile. And yet, he remembered the night before. Like a fairy spirit, she had appeared from the wood...full of inner pain and torment. His arms remembered her feel. His body remembered the mold of her frame. Lunitari had granted him that one wish, last night, and he could tell even now that Alira was free of the draconian. Clearly, it wasn't merely the idea of a draconian that frightened her...but the idea that her trust could be turned against her, and could be used to hurt her. But he, Raistlin, had done the thing that Caramon could never do. He had healed her.  
They stopped for a meal halfway through the day. Alira recognized something. Not just something, but a road. She swore.  
"Huh?" Caramon asked, as she left her food on the ground and began to walk away. "Has she gone mad?"  
Raistlin hushed him as Alira started to speak rapidly.  
"Slow down..." Raistlin said, stopping himself before he could even begin to say "dearheart."  
"I recognize this area! We're near Qualinesti!"  
"Is that where we're supposed to be going?" Caramon asked.  
"It is now." Raistlin replied ominously.  
  
That night, Caramon slept while Raistlin and Alira sat near the fire in silence. Both were aware of each other. Both felt the same, but their fool's caution kept them from acting. Until finally, Raistlin turned to Alira.  
"Does the draconian still haunt your dreams?" he asked her, gentle and compassionate, rather than hissing. He stifled the cough that followed.  
She turned to him, and smiled.  
"Thank you." She said...but what they both heard was "I love you." 


End file.
